The Daily Grind
by HigherMagic
Summary: AU. Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to an adult entertainment suite that will give him  1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world. SO VERY M.
1. Chapter 1

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note: Thanks to sarahlizzie who puts up with me (and my bitching) and is amazingly supportive at pr0n-writing. And this is possibly the longest porn scene I've ever written EVER. There's hardly any plot (at first) so…yeah. I'll pretend that you guys don't read it for the porn :P

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"The fuck you mean he's a virgin?"

Dean looked around, having realized he'd all but shouted the question, and then pulled his manager – Chuck Shirley – aside, away from prying eyes. "Look, man, I said in my contract – no virgins. This is no place for someone like that."

Chuck sighed, scrubbing a hand over his bearded face, eyes tired. Guy looked like he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since he was in diapers. "I know, Dean, I know. But Zachariah wants you to do it because you're the only one available today, and besides we all know you'd be the best."

Flattery was usually the way to go when coaxing Dean Winchester into doing something he didn't want to do, but Dean drew a line at virgins. He didn't want anyone's first time to be at a freaking _porn shooting, _like his had been, and Sammy's. It was just wrong.

"Just go talk to him for a while, okay? We can't start shooting for another hour or so anyway until Ruby and Lilith are done, so go ahead and get settled with him. Poor guy looks like he's going to have an aneurism."

_He should, _Dean couldn't help but think. He remembered how nervous he'd been, coming here on his first day. His father, John Winchester, ran the joint and figured that if his sons worked under him he could always keep an eye on them and keep them out of trouble, and so both he and Sam had joined 'The Family Business'. At least it had been until John died of cancer a couple of years ago. Then it had moved to his business associate, Zachariah Adler – a man who'd sell his own three-year-old if it'd make him a quick buck. Under John the place had been a relatively nice place to work – the people were friendly and the pay was good. Now though…well, he brought in people like Ruby and Lilith, who did the whole 'BDSM' scene – _wrong, _in Dean's opinion – and _virgins._

Dean was in a pretty foul mood already this morning, but it wasn't the poor guy's fault his life was crappy enough to force him here, so he took a deep breath and calmed himself. It wasn't all bad – Dean would actually feel better if it were him the guy was with and not, say, Alistair – sadistic S.O.B, all the times Dean had worked with him.

Chuck let him go, back to following one of the girls who worked in customer relations (or something) like a lovesick puppy, and Dean pushed through the swinging door that led to a room doubling as both a break room and Bobby's office. Bobby had been Dean's father's closest friend and managed the business' finances – you wouldn't be able to tell from his gruff exterior, trucker-esque fashion sense and ever-present baseball cap, but the guy had quite a head for sums underneath that scruffy beard and rustic accent.

The room's only other occupant looked up when Dean entered, and he had to suck in a breath.

…_Damn. _

No, no…a guy like that deserved a two-syllable description…._Dayumn. _

Bright, wide, innocent blue eyes. A mop of jet black hair that looked permanently sexed-up and tousled. Strong jaw, full lips, though slightly chapped…a little bit of scruff along his jaw and neck, that would provide just the right amount of scratch. _Christ, _the man was beautiful. Right on the border between a twink and a top. Very, very nice.

The guy also stared.

Which was creepy, usually. Dean didn't like partners who maintained a lot of eye-contact, - thought it too confrontational and aggressive – and that bled into his personal and social life, but the guy's eyes were _very, very blue. _And he had this intensity about him that looked like he was trying to see soul-deep; like he _could. _And that thought didn't freak Dean out as much as it should.

Bobby's not-so-subtle-loud clearing of his throat snapped the both of them out of their epic staring match, and Dean flushed a little, grinning sheepishly as he walked over to the couch the guy was sitting on. He sat on the opposite end, turning towards him – close but not too close. Friendly but not overly friendly. He flashed another smile, this time the more charming, relaxed smile, and leaned forward to extend his hand.

"Hey, I'm Dean Winchester," he said, and noticed with appreciation how the guy's cheeks flushed a little. When the guy shook his hand Dean took stock of the grip – firm, nice – and the lack of calluses one would expect on a guy his age. Even the highest-class snobs got some work-scars on their hands after a year or so in this place. So either the guy was new, or he took really good care of himself.

"Castiel," came the reply, and once again – _dayumn. _The guy's – Castiel's – voice sounded like he'd been gargling gravel – or someone had just fucked his throat. It was deep and rumbling and totally didn't seem to go with his exterior.

Dean wondered what other surprises he was hiding.

"So Chuck says you're with me today," Dean said, still acting casual – if he didn't make a big deal out of the guy's inexperience, then this would just go a lot easier for the both of them. Dean didn't approve, but then again what Castiel chose to do with his life was his business – not Dean's. Bobby was known for picking up strays who needed money in exchange for a day's work. It was better than whoring themselves out – marginally. "They don't need us for another hour, so if it's okay I just want to ask a few questions."

"What…do you want to know?" The reply was slow, methodical, every word planned out and thought through before it was said. Dean liked that.

Dean shrugged. "Let's start easy. Just tell me a little about yourself." He could tell Castiel was beginning to relax – Winchester charm was famous. Hardly anyone with a stick up their ass remained that way for long around Dean's easy camaraderie, or Sam's more adorable empathic approach. Even John had had the gruff sort of affection about him that put people at ease. "Full name, age, occupation…what brings you here today." _Why would you give away your man-virginity for money?_

Castiel shrugged. "My last name is Novak. I'm thirty-two. I, ah…" He paused, a sort of almost-smile coming to his face. It was bittersweet and didn't reach his eyes. "I sell ad space for some big-name company. And…I guess I'm here because a friend of mine said it's a good place to go if you really need money."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "This friend have a name?"

It was whispered; "Jimmy."

_Ahh yes… _Dean remembered Jimmy – he remembered every name that came through here, almost obsessively. Jimmy was the married man, had a kid, lost his job and needed to get some cash. He'd been paired with Azazel, who was alright in small doses, had come in, worked for six hours and left with five hundred dollars in his pocket. Dean never heard about him again.

Apparently, though, he was spreading word around to his friends. Dean had to wonder how many other poor saps coming here Jimmy had been responsible for. How many _virgin _saps.

Damn, he really couldn't let this go; he had to ask.

"Alright, Cas," he said, leaning forward again and lowering his voice so that Bobby wouldn't hear – not that the old guy cared – "I have to ask. Why would you come here? You can't be that desperate, right? You do realize what we do here." As if it weren't obvious from the entryway.

Castiel fixed him with a long look, eyes steady. "It's better than working the streets, wouldn't you agree?"

Dean didn't answer – couldn't answer. Those had been his thoughts exactly, but _still. _There's always another option, isn't there? Of course, Dean didn't mind his job. It was fun, you get to meet some really nice people and work with some great ones, and you get off for money. Having a definite business around it ensured the employees were safe, disease-free, and they always had a paycheck and were taken care of – the health plans here were just _ridiculous. _So it wasn't the worst option, but it wasn't the best.

But hey, it's the guy's life.

He realized they were still staring at each other – Castiel with that soul-deep look again – when he spoke; "You called me 'Cas'."

Dean blinked, and flushed again. Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he smiled a little. "Sorry, didn't mean it."

"No…That's okay." Castiel's voice went higher, just a little, talking more like a normal person and not someone who had been a long-time smoker. He blushed a little, hair falling forward to shield his eyes when he looked down – _fuck that was beautiful. _"I like it."

There was another 'moment' when Castiel flashed more of those bright blue eyes Dean's way from under his lashes – really long, dark lashes – cheeks still adorably pink and a small smile curving his lush lips when Gabriel burst into the door.

Dean liked Gabriel, he did, but honestly the guy had the _worst _timing _ever. _Gabriel was all about the straight love, usually – _weirdo _– and often was seen in ridiculous kinds of costumes for various role-plays and 'scenarios'. Today, apparently, he was going to be a maître d' or room-service guy or something, dressed in black dress pants, a white shirt and red vest. His honey-brown hair was slicked back from his face.

"I feel like having a twink today," he announced to the room at large, arms crossing over his chest, resting his weight on one leg. "You up for it, Winchester?"

For a second Dean thought he was talking about him, which would be weird considering he and Gabriel had never been paired together, spared two glances for each other outside of friendship, but then there was laughter from the other open door to Bobby's office, and Sam came in the other door, laughing.

"You couldn't handle me, short-stop," he said, lumbering over to the (much) shorter man and picking him up easily. Gabriel chuckled, wrapping his arms and legs around the larger man and resting their foreheads together as Sam carried him back out of the room.

It was weird – Gabriel was all about sexing up the women on camera, but Sam was the only one he took it up the ass for. Sam was also the only one Gabriel was romantically involved with – and vice versa. Some people might wonder how the hell that worked, but really the two were so comfortable and secure with each other that it just came _naturally _to them. Dean envied that – someone who wouldn't feel threatened by his job, maybe could even relate. Like that would happen – the one time Dean had tried to date a girl from work it had ended in absolute disaster when she found out he preferred men to women.

There was more laughter from the room Sam had carried Gabriel into, then the distinct sounds of people starting to make out. Dean coughed, rubbing his palms on his jeans for a moment before Castiel drew his eyes away from the empty doorway again, looking to Dean.

"He was called 'Winchester'," he noted, and Dean immediately understood what he was getting at.

"My little brother, Sam," Dean said, gesturing vaguely with an affectionate smile. "Four years younger but still a sasquatch."

"Are those two…'paired'?" Castiel asked, tongue seeming to stumble over the lingo of the business. Dean felt his smile grow.

He was going to answer when Chuck appeared in the doorway, a jerk of his head signaling that it was time to get the party started. Dean sighed again and shoved himself to his –bare – feet (he didn't like wearing socks around an indoor place), holding his hand out to Castiel. "Come on. Time to go."

And just like that the guy was nervous again. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment before they opened again and he took Dean's hand; that soft, firm grip sliding into Dean's again and giving a slight squeeze. Dean smiled and pulled him upright, letting him come close when he overcompensated and leaned against Dean.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Dean said, and yeah maybe he was leaning in a little more closely than he should be, inhaling Castiel's scent where it was strong around his neck and the corner of his jaw, behind his ear. Castiel smelled of oceans, even though they were thousands of miles away from any body of salt water worth mentioning, and of sweat. Not in the gross, stale way, though – just the scent of someone who had gone through a few hours in a hot day and a not-so-well-air-conditioned room. It was pleasant.

Castiel drew away so he was standing on his own, hand pulling out of Dean's again as air came between them. He shook his head. "No, I've come this far. I'm sure you'll take care of me, Dean." Another look from underneath those eyelashes, and Dean was caught. Hook, link, sinker. He was done for.

"Yeah," he rasped, throat feeling suddenly dry. "Yeah, I can do that."

Castiel smiled, and motioned for Dean to lead the way. The two men followed Chuck to the room they would be filming in, Castiel looking everywhere he could, taking in everything. The man never missed a detail. While they walked, Chuck talked through what the producer was looking for for this shooting;

"Alright…basically we're going to start with a bit of making out. Nothing big, just to ease you in a little." He shot Castiel a reassuring smile, which Castiel returned gratefully. Making out – he could do that. Just easing in. Awesome. "Then Dean's going to go down on Castiel, make him come, and then sex. That's just the basic outline, feel free to improvise." Castiel wasn't sure who Chuck was talking to, having used both of them in the third person, but he was okay with that, his mind still going over what was being asked of him. They were giving them a lot of lee-way with what to do; Castiel was surprised. He thought every porn video was carefully choreographed and planned down to a 'T'. Apparently not.

"Oh, and feel free to say whatever. We're not going to use live audio feed, so anything you say won't be on the video. Just some music." Dean smirked a little, knowing that that was complete bull, but it would put Castiel more at ease, make him feel a little safer and free to do what he wanted. Regardless of the fact that Cas would be paid, Dean wanted him to enjoy it.

Chuck went into a raised chair that sat behind a camera, looking through at a screen to see the room Dean and Cas were in – it was bare, white walls and wooden floors like a dance studio. The only piece of furniture was a big black leather couch, and there were half a dozen supports between the ceiling and the floor. Plenty of space to do what they wanted, but Dean wouldn't worry about getting too adventurous with Castiel.

The poor guy looked like he was going to start hyperventilating; his eyes were focused on the cameras and lighting equipment, and the two men also in the room with them. Dean didn't let him dwell too long, pulling him close just out of view of the camera.

"Last chance," he murmured into Castiel's ear, taking a small delight in the way the older male shivered against him. "Now or never; you can still back out if you want."

Castiel shook his head; not surprising. He struck Dean as the type who wouldn't back down once he set his mind to something. "No. I want to do this. Let's do this." And he smiled up at Dean, a small, confident sort of smile that belied the nerves showing in his eyes. But the camera wouldn't catch that – that was all for Dean.

He smiled. "Okay then." Then, he stepped back, into the full view of the camera and pulled Castiel along with him by the hand, into a kiss. Castiel was perfect height – just a little shorter than Dean, but not so much that either of them had to bend or stretch awkwardly. Dean smiled at his hesitance, drawing back a little so he could whisper against Castiel's lips; "Ignore the cameras. Just focus on me. You'll be great." When Dean kissed him again, the shorter male was more receptive, closing his eyes and letting himself feel. Dean slowly brushed a hand through the hair on the side of Castiel's head, above his ear and away from the camera, not letting his body block the view – because fuck it, Dean wanted to watch this later. He wanted to see the exact moment Castiel surrendered to him, wanted to see the beautiful blush on his partner's cheeks and the expressions on Castiel's face when Dean brought him pleasure.

He wanted to see it all.

Dean slowly ran his other hand down Castiel's sleeved arms – he was dressed in black dress pants and a plain white button-down, the first few buttons undone – and took Castiel's hand in his, placing it on his side. "Touch me, Cas, it's alright," he purred, eyes half-lidded as he pulled away from Castiel just a little, drawing the other male forward with tongue and hands and holds, so that he followed. Castiel's breathing was heavy and fast – unhealthily so – and Dean continued to gently pet through his hair in an attempt to calm him down, breaking away from the kiss for a chance to breathe.

When Dean felt the backs of his legs hit the couch he sat down, pulling Castiel so the other male lay down on top of him. Dean was quick to trap him in-between his legs, strong thighs grabbing hold of Castiel's waist and hips and keeping him there.

Their breathing seemed incredibly loud to Castiel, echoing in the room with such weird acoustics – like an echo and not. Regardless of whether he'd had sex with a man before or not, Castiel was a good kisser, forceful and dominant – not like what Dean was used to, and definitely not what he'd expected. Castiel didn't kiss chastely, and he didn't quite attack either. He was sneaky; he put pressure on Dean's lips, forced them open and then stole inside like a thief, getting his taste and his pleasure from it, and almost leaving some behind as an afterthought. It was _hot. _

As they kissed, Dean could practically feel Castiel's reserves melt away. This was obviously something he was comfortable with, and while the cameras remained relatively unobtrusive and in the background Dean was confident he could get Castiel to let loose. He slid his hands down the older male's sides, finding his ass and digging in, thrusting upward at the same time while keeping the almost bruising hold with his thighs. Castiel jerked away in surprise, cheeks flushed adorably as he stared down at Dean, eyes wide. Dean smirked up at him, flexing his hands in the tight muscle and Cas groaned, head dropping onto Dean's chest as Dean once again began a slow grind, not letting Cas move any way he didn't permit.

When Castiel began to thrust back, hand fisted tightly in the back leather, the other gripping Dean's shoulder tight enough to bruise as his face contorted in pleasure, Dean thought he was relaxed enough to move on. Castiel's erection was warm and solid against his thigh, and it felt like the guy had a lot to offer. Dean couldn't wait to rock his world and watch him shatter.

Time to lose the clothes. Dean tilted his head, deepening the kiss and sliding his hands around to Castiel's chest, beginning to unbutton the shirt slowly. Castiel tensed a little as he did so and Dean kept his eyes half-lidded, breaking the kiss and reengaging – making it breathier and slowing down Castiel's attack on his lips, hoping to convey his reassurance with his eyes.

Nodding slightly, Castiel shifted a little, moving his weight so he rested more on his knees and let his hands slide under Dean's t-shirt, pushing it upward so it bunched under Dean's arms. He kept pushing until Dean was forced to lift his arms. Castiel pushed it up over Dean's head, smiling in appreciation when Dean's muscled, toned chest was exposed to him. He leaned down, trailing his hands over the sun-kissed skin as Dean continued unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once he was done. Castiel pulled the sleeves down, grinning when Dean's eyes raked his torso with an appraising look, and let it fall to the floor.

Dean pushed himself to a sitting position, legs resting over the other man's, pulling Castiel closer to kiss him again, letting his eyes fall closed as he tilted his head, exposed his neck and jaw – which apparently the viewers really liked in his videos – which Castiel immediately covered with his hand. The hold was kept with the slightest bit of pressure, but it gave Dean very (in)appropriate thoughts of breath play and more hardcore lovin' with Castiel, which would be _awesome. _

But this was a one-off, and the guy was a virgin. He couldn't get ahead of himself.

Castiel brushed his thumb over Dean's cheek, pulling him forward until Dean was crouched over him on all fours, Castiel sliding down the couch until he was pliant and beautiful underneath Dean, who leant his head down, purring and nuzzling into Castiel's neck and hair. He tilted his head a little, flashing his eyes in Chuck's direction, who was making the 'you're-doing-great-but-move-it-along' motion, and Dean flexed his hand slightly, letting Chuck know he'd understood.

He moved his head to the other side of Castiel's head, so the gasping man blocked his mouth – and his words – from the camera; "Going to suck you off now, Cas," he growled, making his voice already throaty and fucked-out, smirking at Castiel's hitch of breath. "Gonna make you feel so good…" He moved a hand down, stroking between Castiel's legs as he lay to one side, letting the camera get a good view as Castiel's legs fell open, his back arching and neck being bared in pleasure. His jaw clenched beautifully, tendons flexing in his neck, eyes sliding closed. _Fuck, he's beautiful. _

Dean moved his head again, whispering more filth into Castiel's ear; "Gonna take you right in my mouth, swallow you all down. Bet you'll feel great on my tongue – nice and warm and fucking _solid, _and I bet you're a grabber. Yeah, gonna fuck my mouth, make my throat all fucked-out when you grab my head and make me take it, make me swallow. Yeah…" Castiel choked on a gasp, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenching into fists against Dean's skin. "Yeah…Can do that."

Castiel let out his breath shakily, opening pupil-blown, lust-wide eyes and looking to Dean's green, noticing with some satisfaction that the Winchester seemed just as affected by his words as he was. He nodded enthusiastically, words forming around a silent 'Yes please'. But he couldn't speak; his mouth was too dry.

Dean smiled easily, nudging below Castiel's jaw again, forcing his head to remain back as he slid down between Castiel's legs, mouthing at the smaller man's neck and collarbone. He paused right below the hollow in his throat, licking and biting a dark bruise into existence on the pale, previously-unmarked skin. In the back of his mind he vaguely hoped the guy didn't have a girlfriend or something, and if he did then she could _suck it, bitch. _Castiel's hands knotted into Dean's hair, and he thought he heard the other man mutter something about it being 'Too short'. Dean smiled against his ribs as he counted them with his tongue, learning this new lover while he could.

"Dean…Fuck…" It was the first thing Castiel had said clearly since the whole thing started, and Dean almost froze with surprise. He covered it up pretty well, but he was almost positive that Castiel could tell how much his voice affected Dean. Sneaky bastard decided to get a _lot _more vocal after that; deep moans and little whimpers and whines – any place Dean touched, kissed or caressed elicited a reaction from Castiel. Repeated mutterings and gasps of his name – and fuck wasn't _that _just an ego boost and a half?

Chuck was getting impatient again – but fuck him; this was _Dean's _video – and from the way Castiel kept lifting his hips and pulling at Dean's head, trying to focus the younger man's attention further south, Dean figured Cas was more than ready for the next part. Dean smirked into the skin between waistband and navel, flashing his eyes to lock with Castiel's as he slowly dragged his mouth down; he wanted to watch Cas' face when he started whipping out the big moves.

He tilted his head away from the camera, let his upper lip catch on the top of the dress pants, noting how Castiel's breath hitched at the sight. Dean's hands slid to the cushions on either side of the other man's hips, clenching in the leather as he stretched and arched his back – hell, his back could be in a porn movie all on its own – letting the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as, maintaining the eye contact he usually shrinks from, Dean caught hold of the button on Castiel's pants. Pushing it through the hole with his tongue he gripped the other half of the opening between his teeth and pulled, undoing the fastening with ease. It was almost comical how wide Castiel's eyes got. Then the contact broke when Dean took Cas' zipper into his teeth next and dragged it open, his breath gusting out in one huge, hot exhale right onto Castiel's now exposed cock.

Guy had fucking _gone commando._

…_Nice._

Bringing his hands back into play, Dean hooked his ring fingers into the waistband and pulled them down to Castiel's thighs – it was as far as he needed to get them for the camera without having to move.

_Fuck, _Dean thought, and not for the first time; _He's beautiful._

Castiel was packing some serious heat under that awkward, kind-of-nerdy exterior and lithe body. Those innocent-as-fuck blue eyes and adorable blush; the guy almost looked like a challenge.

The older man looked like he'd passed out when Dean did the _thing _with the _zipper, _his eyes half-lidded and glazed over in pleasure – and anticipation of more – as he combed his fingers lazily through Dean's hair. Only when the younger man licked a strip along the vein on the underside of his cock did Cas stir. Well, more like jack-knifed into a sitting position, gasping. _Guy's so responsive. _Dean would have to remember that, and be careful when he was fucking him.

Castiel's thighs had clenched, trying to close and block Dean, push him away from such a vulnerable area – which was fair; it was only instinct – but that wouldn't do. Gently Dean held Castiel's thighs, pushing them apart again as he placed little kisses along Castiel's hips, away from the more sensitive areas until the man had calmed down. Castiel allowed the leg closest to the camera, and the edge of the couch, to be pushed off the couch so his foot was against the floor, baring Dean's ministrations for all the audience to see.

Keeping his hold on Castiel's other thigh, Dean returned his mouth to the other man's cock, this time starting slower – he licked lightly at the base, eyes flashing up to Castiel's to make sure this was okay. Blue eyes filled with a mix of wonder and lust, Castiel nodded, hand coming forward to hold the back of Dean's head, direct him to the head. Dean let himself be guided, dragging his bottom lip up along whatever patch of skin happened to be under his mouth, as his now-free hand took hold of Castiel, immediately forming a tight fist for the man to fuck into. Castiel was quick to take advantage, and his heavy breathing turned into an almost strangled groan – animal-like, pure lust – when Dean finally – _fucking finally_ – took him into his mouth.

And _damn, _did Dean keep his promise.

Not only did he give a fantastic blowjob, but it was _messy, _and _noisy, _and that was just _fucking hot. _Cas' cock soon shone with saliva, liberally coated in the wet warmth, which Dean used to stroke and finger the parts he hadn't yet reached with his mouth.

Then, Dean got the signal, and he looked up at Castiel, winked, and moved his head. In one smooth motion he sank down, throat relaxing around Castiel as he swallowed everything the man had to offer. Castiel's hand tightened in the short hair at the back of his head, desperately searching for purchase, until Castiel, desperate, had to resort to taking a bruising grip of the man's shoulder. _Fuck, there is a God. His name is Dean Winchester and he's currently giving the best blowjob ever given in the history of mankind. _

Then. Dean. Started. Humming.

He fucking started _humming. _With Castiel's cock _buried throat deep in his mouth. _Bastard was even smirking around Castiel, those pretty, full lips stretched wide and kissed red – fuck, the man's already throaty and decadent voice would only just get worse – and didn't that do _wonders _for Castiel's libido, and his lasting time.

_Fuck. I am so _fucked. _Fuck!_

Yeah, Castiel's vocabulary had been reduced to one syllable words, mostly consisting of long-moaned 'Fuck', 'Yes', 'Dean', 'Don't', 'Can't' and 'Stop'. Dean slowly drew up, tongue working a trail along the underside and fingers following diligently behind, so tight and so hot and so _perfect, _like he was _made _to suck Castiel.

And then, when he thought it couldn't get any (worse) better…

Dean pulled off all the way, continuing to stroke Castiel slowly, maddeningly slowly, with just the right amount of friction and pull to bring him closer to the edge, but not enough to send him flying off. Shifting to his knees, Dean leaned forward to whisper something in Castiel's ear – like what he had to say was too intimate (or filthy) for the camera to see.

It turned out to be the latter; "God, Cas, you taste so good. Feel so fucking awesome on my tongue, fucking my throat. Want to see you come, Cas. Want to feel it, taste it; want you to come all over my face." Dean's already low voice was positively wrecked now, giving Castiel a soft squeeze when he spoke. The older man's eyes flew open at Dean's request, breath hitching so violently he almost choked.

But _God…_that _mouth _on Dean. And the _visual…_Dean was fucking _gorgeous _– duh, he was a porn star – with just the right balance between being pretty and masculine. With his tanned skin and beautiful green eyes and full lips, he would look fucking _incredible, _painted, marked up like that. Castiel's cock jerked in Dean's hand at the thought of being the one to do that.

Dean noticed; he chuckled, smirking; "Like the thought of that, huh?" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Castiel's ear when he spoke. "Want you to do it, Cas. Need it; fuck, so hot…" And he pulled away, some sixth sense telling him that to get what he wanted he would have to move real fucking fast.

He didn't have to wait long – within minutes of taking Castiel back into his mouth, the older man gave a warning jerk, managing to just stutter out Dean's name before Dean pulled off. The younger male was quick to kneel on the floor, pulling Castiel to a sitting position that would lend itself to a better camera angle. Castiel took himself in his hand, stroking at a punishing pace while Dean licked and stroked at his thighs and balls, intense green eyes focused on Castiel's face.

When Castiel's eyes flew open Dean figured it was time. He opened his mouth slightly, catching the first hints of Castiel's release on his tongue, licking them from where they fell on his lips. Castiel stroked himself through his release, painting Dean's cheeks, chin, neck and chest with the thick white ropes, even going so far as to get some in his hair and around his eyes. There was a thin strand connecting from nose, to over his eyelashes, to just above his eyebrow that was severed when Dean blinked and leaned forward, licking away what had dribbled down Castiel's hand and cock. His breathing was just as heavy as Castiel's, even making that sound fucked-out and satisfied, and Castiel cupped Dean's cheek, forcing the other male to meet his eyes. His thumb trailed over one of the marks on Dean's chin slowly, rubbing it in.

Dean smiled, the expression relaxed and self-satisfied. "You're a natural."

They were still staring at each other when Chuck cleared his throat.

Dean pulled away, taking a deep breath to steady himself and managed to catch the wetted towel Chuck threw his way. He unfolded the thing, pressing it to his face to wipe off the semen stains, and Castiel felt oddly sad to watch them go.

Hurriedly he stuffed himself back into his pants, not sure what would happen now. Luckily Chuck was merciful and told him; "We're gonna take a break for fifteen minutes or so, so that we can change the roll on the cameras and give you some time to recover. Anything you want to plan out; I'd do it now." Then he nodded at Dean and left the room, taking his camera and the rest of the crew with him and muttering something about lighting and position.

Dean sat down on the couch again next to Castiel, clearly more at ease and in his element now; Castiel envied that – the ability to be so laid back about everything, to assume a role and just be able to go with it. He rubbed his palms along his thighs, waiting until Dean had finished cleaning himself up until he spoke.

Well; tried to. "So…" And yeah, that's pretty much all he managed to rasp out, the image of Dean's face covered in his come still fresh and _hot _in his mind.

Dean smiled, features soft in a sort of odd affection for the other male before he sighed, stretching out his jaw. "Not bad so far, yeah?"

Castiel shook his head. "No; not bad at all. Different than what I expected."

Dean snorted, smirking again. "We're pretty alright as far as the business goes. There are worse places you could have chosen." He shifted in place, wincing slightly in discomfort, reminding Castiel that, while he may have gotten off – and what a way to go – Dean hadn't.

"Do you need to…?" He gestured vaguely at Dean's various state of dress, including the obvious bulge in his jeans. Dean flushed slightly but shook his head.

"No. Gotta wait or I won't be able to get it up again for the next part."

_The next part…_Another silence fell between them, not quite comfortable but not awkward either. Finally, the questions pressing through Castiel's mind became too much; they were running out of time anyway, and it seemed like he should talk about this with Dean, at the very least. "So…the sex is next."

"You're okay with that, right?" came Dean's reply, and Castiel turned to find Dean looking at him with a concerned expression. "I mean…because if you're not, you can still back out. Chuck'll be able to work with what we've given him already. Or…" Dean fell silent, biting his lower lip as he seemed to come to a decision in his head; "I could. Well. You don't have to bottom. Chuck didn't specify it would be you."

Castiel blinked, stunned at the offer. He honestly hadn't thought about it – he just assumed Dean would top him. It seemed more natural that way anyway.

Then again, he could see where Dean was coming from – or trying to, in a roundabout way. He sighed; in for a penny and all that. "No," he said, shaking his head, coming to a decision, "I'll bottom. I wouldn't know what I was doing anyway." He smiled slightly.

Dean nodded, seeming to be a little relieved, actually.

Another pause, then; "Alright then. We should get started." Dean pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to Castiel. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Strange, it didn't even occur to him to refuse.

"We need to get you…prepared. Viewers don't like seeing the whole prep stage – they like to think you can just push in with just spit and Bob's your uncle. Doesn't work like that; you'll want to be stretched out and lubed up enough to make it as painless as possible."

Castiel was led to a changing room/bathroom and handed a bottle of unflavored lubricant. Dean and he both flushed at the same time. "I assume you'll be alright to…" Another vague gesture, another blush, another nod, and Dean smiled. "Okay then; I'll come get you in ten minutes or so – just gonna check up on some things and I'll be back." He clapped Castiel on the shoulder, smiling amiably, and then left, disappearing into the mass of people hurrying to, from, and around different sets and rooms. Castiel took a deep breath and pushed through the door into the room.

He'd gotten off to sticking fingers up his ass before. Hell, even one of his more adventurous girlfriends had wanted to lick him open and finger him while she blew him – _that _had been an interesting experience. But it's more awkward when you're doing it _so that someone else can go there. _It's weird, and scary. Castiel didn't realize his hands were shaking until he almost dropped the bottle of lubricant on the floor, blushing even though there was no one there to see his slip.

He went into one of the stalls, wanting as much privacy as possible, and hurriedly undid his pants. There was a moment where he just stood, pants around his ankles, staring at the bottle as though it were some rabid animal that wanted to eat his face off.

_It's simple, _he kept telling himself. _Just do it, already. You're going to have sex; this is the easy part. _

He closed his eyes, and the uncapping of the bottle seemed unbearably loud in the empty room. Taking a deep breath he squeezed some onto his fingers, letting it slip down and coat his palm slightly. The lube was cold and he rubbed his fingers together to warm it up, and it tingled slightly while it did so. Menthol. Nice.

He set the closed bottle down on the toilet lid, taking another deep breath as he rubbed his fingers together, stalling. He knew he didn't have much time but he couldn't seem to bring himself to just…reach around. It was awkward to picture, even more so to try.

Castiel found himself wondering if it wouldn't have just been easier to ask Dean to do it.

The sound of a door being pushed open shattered the silence of the bathroom. Castiel could hear the sounds of two people making out; the dull thud of someone getting pushed into a wall; the rustle of clothing falling to the floor; the muffled moans and grunts as they touched and teased each other. Castiel felt like a pervert, listening in on them (regardless of how vocal one of them was, and how hot the noises they were making were), but was at a loss of what to do, with his pants currently around his legs and his hand full of unused lube. That could get really awkward if he tried to leave.

"Fuck, _Sammy, _fuckin' whore for it, aren't ya?" Castiel recognized that voice. Gabriel; the loudmouth who wanted a 'twink'. Sam…Dean's little brother.

Oh God, Castiel was so eavesdropping. On Dean's little brother having sex with his partner or pair or whatever the hell Gabriel was to him. This was not happening; damn it.

The situation only got worse when his body began to respond. Castiel had always been responsive to voices and noises; it was one of the reasons Dean had gotten him off so well with his gorgeous, low, fucked-out…ness. Desperately Castiel dug his fingers into his palm, trying to distract himself with pain so his erection would go away, to no avail. Damn guys kept _making noise; _"Beg me for it, Sammy," he heard Gabriel growl, the other men's breathing heavy in the room to disguise his own; "Beg on your knees like a little whore."

_Damn it, Sam, don't beg, _Castiel pleaded inwardly, jamming his unlubed fist into his mouth. _Please, please, please don't beg. _

"You want me like this, Gabe? Hmm? Like getting me all hot and bothered for you?" Another voice, which must be Sam, said, the tone breathy and low – not as low as Dean, but just as raspy and raw. Castiel had only seen Sam for maybe a thirty second gap, but it was enough to remember his face and build, to get enough details for his over-ramped mind to create a stunning visual of Sam on his knees for Gabriel, sucking him in deep like his life depended on it. _Damn teasing little twink and damn overactive mind and _fuck. There was another sound of movement, then a heavy thud of someone being pushed onto the floor. Castiel presumed it was Sam.

"Think that's funny, huh?" Gabriel's voice was much, much darker now; almost threatening and incredibly tense. "Teasing little whore. I'll make you pay for that."

Castiel's heart was practically going into shock, unable to believe he was hearing this, and unable to do anything about it. His cock was hard and leaking, an almost painful throb between his legs, the reason he was in the bathroom forgotten in the face of what was happening outside his stall.

(Un)fortunately, the _happy _couple were interrupted.

"Oh! Dude! Come on!" _Dean. _Honest to God, Castiel had never had such mixed feelings about a person's entrance in his life. "I do _not _want to see that. Stop molesting my little brother!"

"Stop walking in on me molesting your little brother."

"Can it, Gabe. Is Cas in here?"

_Shit. _Hurriedly, Castiel grabbed the lube bottle, pulling up his pants as quickly as possible – damn, this was going to be embarrassing. His hand was still slick and sticky from the lubricant and he hastily tried to wipe it off on his pants leg. From the amount of heat he felt he was giving off, he was sure his cheeks were tomato-red. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit!_

"Cas? You mean that guy you're with today? Yeah, he's in the first stall on the right."

…_Fuck. They'd _known.

…Well.

Honestly, what's the right response to that?

Hanging his head in shame, Castiel unlocked the door to the stall he was in and stepped out. True to his imagination, Sam was currently sprawled out along the floor, shirt unbuttoned and flaring out to his sides. Gabriel sat on his chest, both of them looking like they'd tried to suck each other's brains out through their mouths. Dean was still shirtless, arms crossed over his chest as he smirked between Cas and the two on the floor, seemingly uncaring about the scene he'd walked in on. All their expressions clearly said 'We know what you were up to in the stall. If you'd asked we would have let you watch'. It just made Castiel blush harder.

"Um…I'm sorry I…" He fidgeted, looking down, and Dean finally had mercy on him and stepped forward, taking his hand and pulling him towards the door.

"Just ignore those two yahoos. I do," he said, grinning and expertly dodging a kick Sam aimed his way, jostling Gabriel who had slid down to his lap. Gabriel playfully slapped Sam's chest, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Bad bottom!'. Castiel tried not to smile and failed. "Come on, Cas, Chuck'll want us back in there soon."

"Play nice, Dean!" Sam called, grinning when his brother gave him the finger, rolling his eyes. "Try not to bite him too much."

"Gabriel, put his mouth to good use for me."

"Can do, boss."

"Jerk."

"Bitch," came Dean's easily-drawled reply, and the bathroom door close behind him and Castiel, shutting out the sound of the other men's laughter. The room was still unoccupied when Dean led Castiel back in, the air smelling vaguely of sex and disinfectant, as well as the wood of the floor and a recent paint job. Castiel sat down on the couch, the lube bottle in his pocket digging into his thigh uncomfortably. With a grunt he fished it out and set it down. Dean saw.

"Before you were interrupted, did you manage to…?"

And just like that, the blush was back. Castiel twisted his fingers through each other, eyes pointedly down when he shook his head. "No," he murmured in answer. "I didn't get the chance to."

"Do you want some more time? I can make sure no one comes in the room and tell Chuck to give you another fifteen minutes," Dean said, already moving towards the door to carry out his offer. Castiel quickly gripped his forearm, stopping him.

He shook his head; "No. I mean…I couldn't do it…anyway. I was too…nervous, I guess." He saw Dean smirk; probably a knee-jerk reaction, before it was covered up just as quickly as it'd appeared. "I think I'd feel better if someone else did it. If…would you mind?"

_Are you fucking kidding me? _Dean could practically feel his eyes darkening. Castiel was just too fucking beautiful and innocent for his own good. Even though the guy was older than Dean, he looked so young at times, and so freaking _pure, _it was delicious. A shave and a smile would take three years off his face, easy.

"Lay down." His voice was a growl, he was sure of it, standing and breaking Castiel's grip as the other man sat back on the couch, looking up at Dean. "No, on your stomach." There was a brief flash of hesitance, and then Castiel rolled over. He hadn't put his shirt back on, and although the guy wasn't muscled he was well-toned – probably deceptively strong. The muscles in his back twitched, flexed and relaxed when Dean touched them, the younger man straddling Castiel's hips for a moment as he explored the exposed skin. He kept the touches light for the most part, gathering information on where he could touch that would be the most sensitive; too sensitive, not reactive at all. On the parts of Castiel's back where his fingers would elicit the most powerful reactions, he didn't touch with his tongue, not wanting to over stimulate the poor guy.

He was very sensitive along his spine and shoulders; carefully Dean dug his nails into the soft skin right below Castiel's shoulder blades and dragged them down, his eyes focused on the back of Castiel's head. The action provoked one long shudder and arch, Castiel fisting the leather of the couch tightly, bucking his hips so that they ground against Dean. Dean smirked, doing it again and again, glad to find that the guy didn't mind a bit of pain in his experience, and when Castiel finally gasped out a broken 'Please', Dean relented, placing a light kiss on Castiel's shoulder before he scooted down to between the man's legs.

Dean's hands were strong and sure when they took hold of Castiel's hips, forcing the man to arch upwards so that Dean could shed his last piece of clothing, pulling Castiel's pants down and off of him to pile on the floor. Pulling Castiel's legs until they were either side of him, he took one of the removable cushions and placed it under the older man's hips, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible for this.

Castiel finally turned to look at him when Dean leaned over, picking up and opening the bottle of lube. His eyes were dark with concern and restrained lust, and Dean gave his best reassuring smile, rubbing his palm along the small of Castiel's back for a moment.

"You okay?" he asked, waiting until Castiel nodded before he poured some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together and waiting while it warmed. "Is there anything you want me to talk you through while we do this?"

Castiel nodded, figuring that at the very least he could concentrate on Dean's voice, and that it would help him relax through the preparation. "Just…keep talking to me," he said, unable to hide the small blush when he laid his head back on his folded arms, just able to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye; "Your voice is pleasant."

He felt it in his legs and abdomen when Dean laughed.

"Alright then," Dean replied, trailing his fingers over Castiel's entrance very lightly for a moment, watching. Castiel felt slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, tense when Dean's fingers made another pass, feeling the lube as a slippery buffer between their skin. "You've had fingers up your ass before, haven't you?"

Castiel almost choked at the bland, outright question. He looked back at Dean, whose face was set in an emotion he didn't quite recognize, before he nodded. "Done it to myself a couple of times, and one girl who was adventurous. Why do you ask?" _Just play it cool, Cas, you're fine._

It took him a minute to realize he'd called _himself _'Cas'.

Weird.

Dean merely shook his head; "You didn't tense automatically. You knew what you were doing. If you were a real, honest-to-God-never-been-touched-there-before virgin I would have had to tell you to relax."

"You got a lot of experience deflowering virgins?" Castiel snapped, and ignored the little pang of _something _in his gut when Dean just grinned at him.

"I've had a few, but it's okay – it's better." Dean winked at Castiel, his smile turning downright predatory. "It means I get to be more adventurous, too."

"What do you -?" Castiel tried pushing himself up when Dean leant down, was stopped when the younger man kept him down with a hand _right over his spine, _and groaned, loud and long into the couch when he felt Dean's _tongue. _The guy was fucking _licking him open, _and _God, _that should not be as hot as it is. Castiel knew, from a biological point of view, that there were a lot of nerves around the…area (God, he can't even think it) and that it could be stimulated during sex…but that's just reading that sort of shit in a twelfth grade textbook. Actually _feeling _it was a whole different ball game.

Dean's tongue was practically a weapon of torture, his hands strong on Castiel's thighs, keeping the guy still as he licked inside, feeling the muscles clench and relax in rhythm; Castiel trying his best not to move back and force Dean in deeper. Dean was practically bent in half, pushing moisture into Castiel's tight passage and forcing him open as much as he could so that, when the time came for a first finger, the initial burn would be lessened.

Dean withdrew his tongue, licking over Castiel's entrance, and smirked when the man practically _mewled, _hips driving back to get more of him. God, Castiel was amazing. So responsive. It was a huge turn-on to see the guy a writhing mess just from his _tongue. _When Dean pushed a first well-lubed finger in he thought the guy was practically going to have a seizure, so hard was he shaking, but Castiel relaxed and took Dean's finger in all the way, low groan muffled against the leather.

That wouldn't do.

Dean knelt up, running a hand up Castiel's spine and knotting his fingers in the thick hair, pulling Castiel's head up so that Dean's mouth was right next to his ear; "Don't hide those pretty sounds from me," he said, making his voice a low growl that he was sure Castiel would be able to feel against his back. "Let go, Cas, let me hear you."

As though for extra incentive, he flicked his finger inside Castiel, stroking along the tight muscle and loving the feeling as Castiel clenched and moaned under him; God, he would have to get control of himself soon or he'll come before Chuck even gets back.

And _damn. _Dean might have to teach his brain to stop dropping reality bombs on him when he was enjoying himself so much.

But still, may as well take the opportunity…

"The cameras are gonna come closer," he said, still rumbling the words into Castiel's ear, though he'd let go of the other man's head in favor of supporting himself on his arm, so that Castiel wouldn't have to hold both of them up. Castiel tensed for a moment, muscles around Dean's finger clamping down tightly, causing him to stifle a very animal-like growl. "They're gonna want to see me fucking you, gonna want it from different angles, too, different positions." He withdrew his finger, adding a second – which was well-received from the look on Castiel's face – and began scissoring them slowly, gently, wanting to stretch Castiel enough to receive a third – and maybe a fourth; Dean was no small man.

Castiel whined when Dean started stroking his insides, and Dean smirked in triumph when he found that nerve-rich little nub inside Castiel, pressing and stroking around it while Castiel gasped and moaned, driving his hips back onto Dean's fingers to get more of that delicious contact.

And just when Dean thought he couldn't be surprised any more…

Castiel had one _hell _of a dirty mouth.

"How do you want me, Dean?" he said, turning so that they could both see each other clearly, his eyes bright and _blue, _half-hidden beneath his lashes, hair slightly wet from sweat and sticking to parts of his face; "Wanna fuck me just like this, from behind? Like an animal? Huh? Want to – _oh God -." _He stopped for a second when Dean's fingers – three now – dragged over his prostate again, "Want me to ride you, take you inside me as deep as you can go, or you want me spread underneath you, moaning and writhing and begging for it – for you. Not for the cameras – for you."

Dean was speechless, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as though he couldn't believe what he'd just heard – which okay, give the guy a break; Castiel had just turned into this _fucking sexy, dirty talking _gorgeous man that was currently fucking himself of Dean's fingers like he was born to do it.

_Fuck, I'm so _gone.

"Come on, Dean, tell me; how do you want me?" Castiel asked, turning, and through some strange maneuvering – which Dean was kind of out of it for, so he really can't be blamed here – Castiel ended up lying on the couch underneath Dean, their legs tangled together, Castiel's hands running everywhere from Dean's ass to the back of his head, to even catching hold of a jean-clad thigh and dragging it up to rest around his hip. Dean's fingers had been pulled out at the change in position but neither of them seemed to mind as Castiel dragged Dean down for a kiss, both of them unable to keep it going for very long, their breathing heavy and harsh and completely _wrecked. _"Just like this," Castiel gasped against Dean's jaw, grinding his hips slowly against Dean's when the younger man framed his face with his hands, smearing lube over Castiel's cheek and in his hair. They met again for a kiss, this time longer as they both tried to calm themselves down, Dean breaking away to rest his forehead against Castiel's, another epic staring match about to commence.

Then Dean smirked, dragging his fingers along Castiel's lube-covered cheek, pulling his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean; "No reason we can't do all three."

_Fuck. He's going to kill me. _

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Castiel and Dean both turned their heads to see Chuck and the other camera crew staring at them, a little slack-jawed. Castiel felt a little smug about that; too smug to be embarrassed.

"So…We ready to go now?" Dean asked, grinning and totally not making any move to get off of Castiel.

Chuck shook himself out of whatever daze he'd gone into, scrubbing another hand over his face as he went back to his chair, setting up the camera again. "Holy hell, Dean; that was possibly one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I'm glad I left a camera running."

"You _what?" _

Chuck smirked a little, shrugging in a 'What ya gonna do?' kind of way. "I had a feeling you guys might give us some gold between shots. And it looks like I was right. Trust me, Dean…just…_damn. _I'm…yeah…._Damn." _

And Dean considered that a compliment, because he was pretty sure Chuck was one hundred percent straight (and in love with Becky, the customer relations girl) so _him _being affected by the gay porn was either secret desires waiting to come out, or legitimately good film material. Dean was willing to let it slide.

So was Cas, apparently. "We gonna do this now?" he asked, looking up at Dean and rolling his hips, just once, but it was enough to remind Dean that he was wearing _way _too many clothes and that Castiel was naked and beautiful and _ready _for him. Yeah, they should have started doing this _yesterday. _

"Fuck, yes," Dean growled, excited to finally be inside Castiel, and he pulled away so that he could pull off his jeans; fuck Chuck – if the camera wasn't ready then they could make up what happens here. Dean's fucking _ready. _He set about shedding his jeans when Castiel scooted off the couch, crouching in front of him and pushed Dean's hands away; he undid Dean's jeans himself. Slowly, torturously slowly, mouthing at the hard line of Dean's cock and the skin below his navel as he pulled the jeans down, letting Dean step out of them himself.

Castiel licked at the vein on the underside, providing just a little extra slick before he stood up, looking up their small height difference at Dean, and pushed Dean down onto the couch. "Want to ride you, first," he said and Dean nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his cock around the base and holding it for Castiel to sink down to.

It was probably the better option – Castiel could control the pace this way.

As Dean pushed past that first tight ring of muscle, Castiel sucked in a breath, fingers tightening where they'd landed on Dean's shoulders. Dean's hands found Castiel's hips, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumbs as Castiel sank further down, watching Castiel's face closely for any sign of pain.

Behind him, Castiel could hear the people and equipment shift; knew that they would start coming closer, so he lost himself in the feeling of Dean; thick, hot, solid, sliding into him. He sank down as far as he could in the one go, hearing distantly Dean's voice, telling him not to hurt himself, and listened; waiting, relaxing and going again. Once he was fully seated on top of Dean, he opened his eyes, finding Dean's bright, intense green staring right back at him, pleasure and affection and concern mixing in his face. When Castiel clenched experimentally, momentarily making himself tighter for Dean, the younger man gasped, throwing his head back as his hands dug into Castiel's hips.

"Fuck, Cas…" Experimentally, Dean shifted his hips, causing Castiel to sink further onto him and they both let out twin moans. Then, bracing himself on his knees, Castiel lifted himself up and sank down again. "God, so fucking tight…" Then words were lost as Dean moved one hand to grab the back of Castiel's head, sealing their lips together as Castiel continued to move on top of him, riding him slowly.

Castiel could practically feel the cameras around them, and tried to make it more of a show; he kept most of the motion to his hips, rolling them to create the same sort of rhythm as his movements had been. Periodically gasping into Dean's mouth, Castiel let Dean know whenever the action had brushed his prostate, and so Dean tried to keep that happening every time. He almost managed it.

Castiel had no idea how long they kept that up; kissing, more like breathing into each other, muttered moans and gasps of each other's name and different profanities the only break in their breathing, which was heavy and loud in the otherwise almost-silent room. It could have been hours or years or minutes, but he didn't want to stop. Even when his legs began to hurt from moving and he felt like he had to come or _die, _he didn't want to stop. It felt too good.

But then Dean tightened his grip, slowing Castiel's movement until they were at a stop, and then pulled Castiel off of him. The older man almost whimpered at the loss, until Dean pulled him upright, pointedly not looking at the cameras as they shifted and moved around them, always professional, and Dean pulled Castiel, manhandling him until he was bent over one of the edges of the couch. Understanding, Castiel spread his legs, bracing himself and fisted his hands in the leather, waiting for Dean. One of the cameras situated itself in front of his face, close but not uncomfortable and he felt another take residence behind him and Dean, able to capture it perfectly when Dean pushed in, sinking himself into the hilt in one smooth push.

Castiel groaned, feeling his body split and open to accept Dean, the younger man pushing deeper into his body than the other position had allowed. One of Dean's hands pushed against his inner thigh, forcing his legs wider for the camera, but the other was stroking and soothing along Castiel's back and spine – that touch, that was all for him.

Every one of Dean's thrusts was slow but hard; Castiel could feel them in his throat. He turned his head away from the camera, meeting Dean's eyes as he clenched again, on purpose, and watched with a sort of smug satisfaction when Dean shuddered to a halt, buried inside of him, eyes falling closed and a muffled profanity falling from between his clenched teeth. The younger man was shaking, fingers digging periodically into his handholds on Castiel's body, trying to hold himself back. Castiel wondered vaguely if they were even going to make it to the third position.

Dean could have sobbed with relief when Chuck, manning the camera in front of Castiel, gave him the 'Go ahead' sign to finish this. Normally he would have been fine – his lasting time was definitely not being called into question here – but Castiel was _so tight, _suffocatingly tight, and he kept fucking _clenching _and making those noises like he'd been doing this all his life, like a fucking _pro, _and it was too much, seeing and being responsible for this man turning from a innocent little twink to a hardcore porn star with a mouth made of sin.

_Time to finish this. _The thought sounded feral even in his head.

He pulled out all the way, hissing slightly as Castiel's body tightened even more, wanting to force him back inside, but once he was fully out Castiel turned onto his back without hesitation, eyes wide and mouth parted as he stared up at Dean. The younger man growled, practically jumping on Castiel as he sealed their lips together, desperate to get as close to this delicious, beautiful man as he possibly could. Hell, if it was possible he would want to crawl inside Castiel and never come out.

Which is dangerous territory – getting attached – but damn it, he was an 'in the moment' kind of guy. He could roll with it.

It seemed like Castiel was doing his damndest to achieve the same thing; his hands and legs encircled Dean, pulling him close, his tongue exploring and tasting as much of Dean as he could. They breathed in each other, touched each other, and Dean ate Castiel's moan when he pushed inside Castiel once again. The older man was burning up under Dean's touch, flushed and sweaty and so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

There were no words shared as Dean set up a rhythm again – faster this time, desperate almost. Needy in the way Dean held Castiel close, refused to let any part of them _not touch_. Any time Castiel broke away to breathe – deep, panting gulps of air – Dean never stopped, kissing and mapping out Castiel's jaw, cheek and neck with his tongue. His hands were bruising on Castiel's body, the sounds he was making more and more animalistic as he approached his climax.

When Dean reached between them, wrapping one hand around Castiel's hard cock and before jerking the older man off, it was all over. Castiel arched, gasped and _flew. _Coming harder than he had in a _long, long _time, he spilled into Dean's hand and onto his stomach, feeling Dean shudder to a halt inside of him, set off by the clench and spasm of his muscles. The younger male gave two more thrusts and stilled, coming inside Castiel.

The cameras started to back off as they came down, panting like they'd sprinted the marathon. Dean was shaking so badly he had no idea how he was kept upright on his unsteady arms, leaning down and kissing Castiel once more; he wouldn't be able to do this for long, so he wanted to get as much in as he could before Castiel was paid and left. His fingers uncurled from around Castiel's spent cock, and he moved to wipe the come off his hand but Castiel caught him, dragging his fingers up and wrapping his lips around them. Dean felt heat rush through him again when Castiel licked and sucked at his fingers, cleaning them of his own come, before he let them fall away and kissed Dean again, letting them share the taste.

"Fucking _hell," _he heard someone say. One of the other crew guys, he imagined, but didn't care enough to look. He listened in an abstract sort of way as Chuck and his crew packed up the cameras – turning all of them off, this time – and left the room, leaving the two men on their own for a moment. Castiel appreciated that.

The moment seemed too intimate – unbearably so, knowing that this was just a one-off, that he was getting _paid _to do it, that it probably meant nothing to Dean but another day's work – but it was so good that Castiel didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep kissing Dean forever, which is stupid, but it's how he felt.

He almost whimpered in loss when Dean finally pulled out of him, careful not to hurt him on the exit. It twinged a little but it was manageable. Contrary to what Castiel expected, he didn't pull away; he didn't even break the kiss. One hand brushed at Castiel's hair, as tenderly as a lover, stroking a thumb over his cheek as Dean met him again and again, never refusing his lips, and his body rested, sated and warm, over Castiel's, solid but careful not to crush the lighter man.

"God, Cas…" It seemed like something needed to be said. Soon enough someone would come in and demand they leave – the room needed to be used again, after all. They weren't the only two in the world, although for a second it sure as hell seemed like it. Dean broke away finally, regretfully, resting his forehead against Castiel's. Bright green eyes pierced through Castiel, making him feel more vulnerable than he had been before, exposed for the cameras; "Could kiss you all day."

Castiel bit his lower lip, flushing a little – though he could blame that on the sex – and smiled at Dean, framing one side of his face with a hand. "Me too. That was…I'm glad it…I'm glad it was you." So he was stuttering, mumbling the sentiment; so what? It's a little awkward; he hadn't even known the guy a day.

But Dean's answering smile was radiant, and so worth any awkwardness. "I'm glad it was me, too." And he kissed Castiel again, this time more chaste, before getting up from the couch and pulling Castiel with him. He grabbed his jeans and Castiel's pants, holding his clothes out to Castiel. "Come on; get dressed before we go back out."

Castiel obliged, pulling on the pants which were now slightly stiff from the dried lube he'd wiped on them earlier – that'd be a bitch to get out. A few minutes' searching also found his and Dean's shirts, and he tossed Dean's to him, sliding his own over his shoulders. By the time he'd buttoned up most of the buttons, Dean was dressed and ready to go, hands shoved into his pockets, rocking on his heels.

"Ready?" he asked with a smile, and Castiel nodded, following Dean when he was led back to Bobby's office. There was a pleasant ache throughout his body, like one gets the morning after a good workout; he couldn't help smile at the thought that he would be able to feel Dean for a while after he was gone. That wasn't an unwelcome thought at all.

There was another man in Bobby's office when Dean and Castiel walked in, who Castiel immediately recognized from his phone interview from his voice when he stood; "Alright, so you guys are done? Fantastic." He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Castiel, who took it, and opened it, seeing several hundred dollar bills inside. "Dean, we want you ready to shoot the next one in an hour, downstairs." Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean's hands clench. "It was nice meeting you Castiel, perhaps we can talk again sometime." And then the guy left, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

"Fucking Adler," Dean growled under his breath, before turning to Castiel. "Don't worry about him; he's a Grade A douchebag." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean sighed heavily again before turning to look at Castiel. To the older man it seemed like Dean had aged several years over that one conversation.

Neither of them moved, just staring at each other, around the room, waiting for one of them to speak or say or _do _something. Finally Castiel broke the silence; "You don't like the idea of shooting again in an hour."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Going downstairs means…well, never mind. I'll deal." He shrugged, nonchalant, but Castiel desperately – _desperately_ – wanted to know what the end of that sentence was. Hell, he wanted to stay and _change _that order. "Listen, Cas…" Dean trailed off, shifting his weight as he looked to the ground. (Im)patiently, Castiel waited for him to continue; "Today was amazing, don't get me wrong; I like you. Enough that I really don't want to see you here ever again." Dean smirked, and it didn't reach his eyes. "But…aw, Hell."

Castiel could almost hear Dean's mental '_Fuck it', _before the younger man tore a post-it from Bobby's desk and a pen, scrawling down his name and number before handing it to Castiel. "If you're ever in the neighborhood or want to have a drink sometime…or something…I'd like to see you again, in different circumstances."

Castiel blinked at the post-it, before taking it, staring at the number as though it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it. "Thank you, Dean," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet Dean's, and the utter relief he saw there was staggering. "I mean it," he said, seeming to need to drive the point home. "For today, everything…thank you."

"Don't mention it." Okay, he was making Dean uncomfortable now. That was okay – Castiel tended to have that effect on people. "I'm glad to do it."

Another slightly not-awkward-but-not-comfortable silence, and Castiel finally sighed. "I'd best be getting home."

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will. Thank you, Dean."

_God, don't go. _Dean's mind was practically screaming at him to stop the man from turning and walking out the door, back to his perfect life with his job selling ad space and his friend who drove him here and his peers and co-workers and possible girlfriend who would see _Dean's marks _on Castiel's body and wonder where they came from. But he didn't, because that's just not how he rolls. He had no right to tell Castiel to stay, so he let him go.

He had about fifty minutes to kill. Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face again and went to find Chuck – he wanted to start looking over the film for scenes that they could just say 'No' to right away before he had to go downstairs. Downstairs, where people like Alistair and Azazel and Crowley liked to play – the sadists with their whips and chains and leather and _instruments. _Dean was no vanilla player, but the whole 'BDSM' thing was just wrong in his opinion; you shouldn't need pain to get your partner off.

He found Chuck in the editing room, uploading the recent shoot onto his 'must be created by God because nothing human ever worked that fast' computer. Images flashed across the screen of Dean kissing Castiel, pulling him down to the couch, lying under him and driving him crazy with his hands and tongue and hips. Dean felt his mouth go dry already, just watching it.

"That was quite a movie you made today, Dean," Chuck said, because he was one of those people who felt like all silences should be broken with inane little comments.

Dean smiled, clapping his friend/director on the shoulder. "Thanks, Chuck. I just hope the viewers like it. Make sure you send a copy to Cas as well, alright?"

"Zachariah already organized it. He'll get a copy as soon as the stores do."

"Awesome."

There was another silence, then; "You guys seemed to really click."

"It happens sometimes, Chuck."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the screen. "It's amazing, you know Dean. You don't usually interact like that. And the viewers will eat it up. You know what'll happen if Zachariah gets good enough ratings."

Dean winced; he did know. It was why Sammy had been brought back into the business after attending Stanford for a law degree, having escaped (left) John's business to branch off on his own. After school he hadn't been able to get a job and had been forced back here. It sucked but it was the truth; if the people liked Cas enough, he'd be called back.

Dean wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note: Thanks to ** **sarahlizzie**** who puts up with me (and my bitching) and is amazingly supportive at pr0n-writing. And this is possibly the longest porn scene I've ever written EVER. There's hardly any plot (at first) so…yeah. I'll pretend that you guys don't read it for the porn :P

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Okay, really. It was just getting ridiculous now.

Dean hadn't been able to take his mind off that day with Castiel. Castiel _fucking _Novak, virgin extraordinaire, who'd managed to dig so deeply into Dean's psyche that the only way Dean would be able to get him out involved long hooks and processes reserved for mummification.

Castiel who, three days ago, had wandered in looking for a good day's work and a quick buck, let Dean take his virginity and then walked out again. Castiel with the blue, blue eyes and the tousled, permanent sex-hair and the full, ripe lips and the _voice _that, honest to God, had made Dean weak in the knees at points.

Castiel who Dean had been forced to watch, over and over again when helping Chuck with the editing of the video they'd shot. Normally it wasn't his job; he worked in front of the cameras, not behind them, but God help him he couldn't _stop. _He _wanted _to watch, relive those moments over and over again. He kept his own promise – he watched, and memorized, the exact moment when Castiel submitted, surrendered. He watched himself and remembered what he was feeling during the acts. He remembered Castiel's taste, his scent, the sound of his breathing that hadn't been cheapened and made static by the audio feeds. Chuck had chosen some cheesy saxophone music for the background, but in parts he let the music die so they could hear the words and sounds of sex. Say what you want about Chuck; the man's a fucking genius when it comes to making the movies.

The finished product ends up being just over two hours of some of the hottest sex Dean's ever had the pleasure to indulge in; a perfect mix of intimacy and dirtiness and raw animal-like sex. From the moment Dean drags Castiel onto the couch to when Castiel comes on his face is one clean cut, then the tape takes little bits of that interlude where neither one of them knew the camera was still running.

Dean might be stubborn and pigheaded and arrogant, but he's not an idiot. He can see it in his own face when preparing Castiel, something he hadn't intended the cameras to see. He could see it mirrored in those bright blue eyes.

There's something there.

But it's too complicated. He can acknowledge that it's there, but acting on it would not only be stupid, but it couldn't possibly work out. It's just…naïve to think that he and Castiel could have anything. For all Dean knew, Castiel could have gone back home to his stupid girlfriend and car and apartment and six figure salary, away from the dirtiness of Dean's job and the crappy hand his life had handed to him.

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Jesus, he wasn't old enough to be bitching like an old man, even inside his own head. The situation wasn't that bad – it was just one of those things. Not like he could help it or throw rocks at the sky and blame God for giving him something so awesome only to have it leave again.

It was when the movie drew to a close that Dean realized it.

There was more than a little something there.

The cameras had been drawn away, zooming out after Dean had come inside Castiel, still rocking into the older man, riding out the orgasm for all it was worth, before they kissed again. And that kiss…that, right there, was Dean laid bare. It wasn't acting – it was too good to be acting; too real. Dean relived the crushing weight in his chest when he watched, feeling all over again the knowledge that Castiel was about to walk out of his life, and he wanted to get as much out of that kiss as he possibly could.

He had kept himself close. He never does that; ever. Thinking back to all his videos, the only one he'd ever come remotely close to being like that with was Lisa, a woman who had been hired for a couple of years before she got pregnant and dropped out for a real job – and then his ex-girlfriend; the previous disaster. She's been mentioned.

_God, I'm fucked. _

So, so fucked.

"Chuck says you made a real winner the other day," Sam said stirring his piping hot coffee as he enjoyed one of the rare moments the brothers get to spend together, with neither of them attached at the lips to someone else. Dean sighed, knowing that's not all Chuck would have told Sam.

"Yeah. The guy was really something for a virgin," Dean replied, trying to smirk and failing miserably. God, he had been Cas' first. That's not nothing. He'd even _thanked _Dean for it.

Sam frowned a little, making the face that Dean dubbed 'Sam's thinking/bitchface number thirty-seven; I'm thinking about something I know Dean won't like but I'm doing this for his own good so screw him.' "In one of the reels, you offered to bottom for him."

Dean tensed, looking down at his hands and wishing he had something to do with them, instead of fidgeting like a nervous teen caught sneaking out after hours. "Yeah, so?"

Sam rolled his eyes; "Dean, you _never _bottom. You never even offer."

"So, what, a guy can't change his preferences now?" And yeah, Dean's being defensive, the sure sign of a guilty man, but he can't help it. Screw it; it wasn't Sam's problem anyway. Not everyone was as versatile as his little brother. "Just…drop it, Sam. Please."

Something in his voice must have struck Sam, because he mercifully kept silent.

Or he would have said something had Gabriel not come in; "There you are!" he said, looking at Dean with his hands on his hips, weight on one leg and looking for all the world like a pissy mother scolding her teenaged child. Dean would have laughed if Gabriel didn't look honestly pissed off with him. "I've been looking all over for you. So…you'll never guess who your boyfriend works for."

Dean frowned, too annoyed/curious to snap that Castiel was not his 'boyfriend', and too annoyed/curious to realize he hadn't even thought twice about who Gabriel was talking about. "Who, then?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes, before his voice lowered into that conspiratorial thing he did when he was imparting the wisdom of the universe to people lower than him. "Michael Santos."

Sam sat up, his interest piqued. "As in -?"

"Yeah, as in," Gabriel said in reply.

Dean frowned, getting a sense that there was something going on between Gabriel and Sam that he was kept out of a loop for – honestly, they had some weird psychic connection going on; he was sure of it. "Can someone please explain to me who this 'Michael Santos' is? As in who?" he demanded, not liking the worried look on his little brother's face, mirrored in Gabriel's eyes.

Gabriel turned back to Dean, again adopting the 'pissy mother' look; "As in my older brother Michael Santos, as in the Michael Santos who owns possibly the biggest business in this fucking city, as in the Michael Santos who's so big of a homophobe he makes Sean Hannity look like Ellen DeGeneres and practically disowned me for taking a job here. Yeah, _that _Michael Santos. He's Castiel's boss."

"Oh shit," Dean said at the same time Sam griped; 'Stop saying 'Michael Santos'.'

"My sentiments exactly, gentlemen. If he ever finds out that Castiel came here he's going to flip the lid. Your boy's not going to have a job much longer."

"So…he'll keep it on the DL. Cas is smart; he'll figure it out. It's not like he's going to go around flaunting the fact that he hooked up with a porn star for money," Dean said, and he could hear how unsure he sounded. Sam still looked equally uneasy. "Right?" He looked at Gabriel. "Right?" And yeah, maybe he was sounding a little desperate.

Gabriel merely shrugged, always his helpful self. "Don't ask me, man; I'm just the messenger. Still, I don't think the guy would die from a little warning if the shit does hit the fan."

"Or a backup plan, at least," Sam said, taking a sip of his coffee now that it wouldn't scald him. "Damn; I can't believe he actually came here if he works for Michael."

"I'm gonna kill Jimmy," Dean growled, and left no explanation for Sam or Gabriel as he stood and left the room; he had to find Chuck, and then Cas, before something happened and it all got out of hand.

_Shit, shit, shit! What would persuade Cas to come to the _one _place that would get him fired? Fuck!_

Honestly, it was a long time since Dean had felt this stressed out. Fucking Castiel Novak and his fucking…damn it. He had to help the guy out, even if it was something as simple as calling him to give him a head's up. Hell, if he had to track the guy down and make a personal visit (and his mind totally didn't start going to dirty places at that thought) he would. Dean Winchester was a loyal man, and even if he'd known the man for just a little bit – not even a day – he was going to make sure Cas came out of this okay.

_Damn, _he thought, _if I'm this freaked out I can't imagine how Cas is feeling._

Well…Castiel was miserable.

It was tangible; like a heavy gloom around his apartment and everywhere he went. His friends – though they were few – noticed, his co-workers noticed, and of course his roommate noticed. Uriel was usually the only guy who could make Castiel laugh when he was feeling down, but now…Now it was all wrong. He didn't want bad, dirty or racist jokes (made all the funnier by Uriel's own dark skin) or pranks pulled on the douche bag that lived down the hall. He wanted a solid body behind him, warm green eyes and a low, rasping voice. He wanted hard muscle with just the right amount of give, a scrape of stubble along his cheek and a man who, honest-to-God, hadn't left his thoughts since Castiel left that studio. He wanted Dean.

But he couldn't have Dean, so he was miserable.

Not in the 'Woe is me, Lenore, Lenore' kind of way that drove people to sitting in blacked-out rooms at three in the morning writing poetry about daisies and moonlight in their own blood. And not in the catatonic way in which he simply lost the will to live and sat staring into empty space hour after hour (he already did that anyway, so it wasn't a change). No, he was miserable in the 'I can't have what I want so I'm going to throw myself at every opportunity' kind of way. He was miserable in the reckless way.

Which is stupid, because it had only been three freaking days. He was allowed to pine for a little, but it was only one man. One porn star, for that matter, who probably looked at people like Castiel as customers in a revolving door; in and out and on to the next one.

But it hadn't _felt _like that.

To Castiel, Dean had made him feel like he was the only person in the world. He had taken care of him even when the cameras (they thought) weren't running. He had done it just for the sake of doing it. Castiel hadn't been in a lot of relationships, but the ones he had been in were all the same; intense, a rush of emotion that was so unbearable that eventually it was just healthier for him to stay apart from the partner he'd chosen. He made romantic attachments slowly, but once he did it was like a broken dam; everything spilling out and it was so intense and forceful that Castiel sometimes felt he would get ripped apart if he didn't keep control of himself.

So he always ended up pushing them away.

In comparison, six hours with Dean should have seemed like nothing. A meaningless encounter in a long list for both of them.

Except Castiel didn't do meaningless.

So he did reckless. He lived for that same intensity all the time; 'living on the edge', as some would say. He accepted every offer extended by his friends to go out after work hours, where usually he would stay at home and catch up on anything he needed to for the next day. His weekends, normally spent reading or quietly in libraries and parks were now chocked with house parties and bars and women (and men, but he didn't touch the men). He brought women home regardless of whether Uriel was there or not; sometimes three different ones at different points in the day. He dove deep into a life of decadence to try and get the same sweet satisfaction Dean had given him.

But he could never attain it.

As the days drew on, Castiel started feeling less like a lovesick teenager and more…angry. He was _furious _with this man – this fucking man that he hadn't even known the name of, seen on the street, wouldn't have recognized or given any acknowledgement to before _that day _– for giving him a glimpse of what it could be like; what it _would _be like with him. His emotions were a maelstrom of rage and bitterness towards that person who, for six hours in his life, had completely turned his world upside-down. Like giving sight to a blind person, or seeing color for the first time – Castiel was taken aback by the vibrancy and he didn't know how to handle it. He wanted Dean; he wanted to be wrapped in that man's arms again, to feel him, heavy and strong and so completely breathtaking, on top of him; around him; inside of him again. He wanted to be inside Dean, wanted to know what it felt like to know a person so completely, to mark every inch of that glorious man as his own.

This was getting out of hand.

This was getting to be too much.

He tried almost everything; when the women failed to satisfy him he sent them packing and turned to his own hand instead. He could remember almost exactly what Dean's mouth and hand had felt like on him and tried to replicate it, but it wasn't the same; Dean was more calloused, his grip just a little tighter than Castiel could manage. The sound of his voice, conjured in Castiel's head, was blank and meaningless; like hearing through glass. It wasn't the same, and it certainly wasn't satisfying.

When Castiel accompanied his friends to bars he would always scour the place, immediately finding people that reminded him of Dean – male or female – and would track them all night. Creepy, but it helped, just a little, to think that maybe these meaningless people _were _Dean, and they were watching him back. A few times he thought about taking one of the guys home, but that would freak Uriel out, and besides – all those who looked enough like Dean for Castiel to even consider were big, bigger than he was and most definitely dominant types. Castiel didn't want anyone inside of him but Dean, and he wasn't confident enough to try and top someone else.

It was a catch twenty-two, so he stuck with the women.

Two weeks after his shoot with Dean, the DVD arrived. Castiel immediately took it to his room, not wanting to risk Uriel finding it – there are just some things people won't accept – and hurriedly opened the brown, unassuming box. Inside was a DVD and two envelopes. He pulled out the DVD first, seeing a picture of him and Dean mid-make-out on the front, the words 'Dean and Cas' written down the side. The case was otherwise plain and white – not the version buyers would see, then. Alright, fair enough. The first envelope merely contained a weird, kind-of superfluous copyright notice and shit that Castiel didn't bother reading. The second, however…was from Dean.

How he could tell that just from seeing his nickname scrawled messily along the front, Castiel didn't want to think about, but he tore it open anyway, imagining he would be able to envision the man as he wrote this, maybe even catch traces of his scent on it, or hear him actually speaking the words.

Okay, so he needs to go back and reexamine that thought at some point.

The letter was short and sweet, Dean obviously having written it in a hurry – maybe in a rush to get it in with the package. Castiel wouldn't know, he just read; _'Hey, Cas. Listen…you probably already know this but I'd feel better for telling you anyway – Michael Santos, your boss, is the biggest gay-basher ever to exist. Take care of yourself and make sure no one finds out who would be able to hurt you with it; it would kill me if something happened to you because you needed some money fast._

_I know you probably are going on with your life now, and that's great, really. But…I'd like to hear from you. Just to know how you were doing – checking up and everything. I'm a worrier like that, I guess. Just…take care of yourself, Cas.'_

It wasn't signed, but then again, it didn't need to be. No one had ever called him 'Cas' in his life before Dean Winchester showed up. And just like that, the stress of the last two weeks seemed to melt away. Dean was thinking about him, too. Castiel wouldn't let himself get his hopes up, but maybe…they could at least be friends, right?

Still, there were words and then there was proof. Yeah, the letter felt sincere, sounded sincere right to its very core, but still…Castiel wanted to see it. He wanted to see Dean and know that what the man looked like when he was open and laid bare. Tucking the envelope containing Dean's letter into his pocket, he reached for the DVD. Normally he wouldn't have even considered watching porn – gay or otherwise – in his own home; he'd never really done it before anyway. Considering the way Castiel approached relationships, he didn't feel the need to get off watching fake scenes and fake actors doing things to each other and pretending to enjoy it, but with him and Dean…he'd be reliving it, revisiting old memories and feelings that he _knew _to be real. He wanted to _see. _

Uriel wasn't due to be home for a few more hours anyway. Castiel figured he was safe, but could keep the volume on low anyway just in case.

He slid the DVD into his player, changing the AV channel so a picture of him and Dean came up on the screen. Castiel was nervous about playing this in the apartment living room, which was set up so anyone coming in the door would be able to see immediately what was playing on the TV, but it was the only one in the house and Castiel's laptop was being a stupid little bitch and wouldn't turn on for longer than an hour – where it then promptly died of overheating – so this was his only option.

Jazzy, slow saxophone music played softly in the background as the movie started, immediately with Dean pulled Castiel into the view of the camera. From here Castiel could see how nervous he'd been; stiff, unresponsive…Until Dean reassured him. The words weren't heard but Castiel could see Dean's lips moving, known what he'd said, and unconsciously his body relaxed all over again, imagining that sexy drawl right in his ear, remembering Dean's words. The Castiel on-screen reached out to touch Dean, having his hands placed on the younger man's body and Castiel could feel the heat in his fingertips, his palm. He remembered the cotton-on-muscle feel and slide of Dean's body under his hands, remembered the younger man's furnace-like body heat, and could almost hear his heavy breathing and low voice in his head. Castiel groaned, sliding a little lower on the couch as he felt himself begin to harden and didn't do a damned thing to stop it.

The make-out session was almost as hot from a third-person perspective as it had been in the real thing. Castiel's lips tingled in memory of kissing Dean, already feeling like they were oversensitive, reddened and swollen from Dean's kisses. The younger man had been surprisingly submissive in kissing Castiel, letting Castiel take the lead and do as he pleased with his lips, teeth and tongue. Dean tilted his head and Castiel's hand was warm from covering the man's throat, feeling his pulse thudding hot and heavy underneath his skin. Beautiful, golden skin that was definitely a natural tan and completely unmarred by marks and blemishes except for the freckles that came with sun exposure. Dean Winchester was beautiful and for those few hours, he'd been Castiel's.

Turning his attention back to the movie, both men had their shirts off now. Dean's warmth had just become more obvious when bare skin met bare skin, taunting Castiel with the tempting heat and solid comfort of muscle and bone. Dean had caged him between his thighs, been in control the entire time, and at the same instant seemed more open to Castiel, pliant and young and absolutely fucking breathtaking. Castiel could see it, all there in the movie; Dean digging his nails into Castiel's ass, clenching tightly while he thrust upwards; those powerful thighs clenching underneath denim like a rider staying put on a rebellious stallion. Castiel groaned, head falling back against the couch as he opened his pants, pulling out his aching cock and beginning to stroke – it was too soon but he didn't fucking care, and desperately he fought to keep his eyes open and focused on the screen.

Dean had pushed Castiel back now, and was dragging his lips down Castiel's torso to give what had been, in Castiel's opinion, the best blowjob in the history of mankind. Castiel's hand mimicked Dean's mouth, dragging down his chest and though it was muted through Castiel's shirt, he still felt it enough to picture it as Dean again. The on-screen version of him and Castiel gasped Dean's name at the same time.

Fuck…he needed to come, like, _yesterday._

The visual had been pretty stunning from Castiel's perspective, but with the cameras it was downright sinful. Chuck really was a genius, getting angles that Castiel hadn't even noticed they were filming from that drew attention to Dean's face, those pretty lips parted and skilled, opening Castiel's pants with only his teeth and tongue. _Fuck, that was hot. _

Castiel could see Dean's expression when he saw Castiel'd gone commando, and blushed in remembered chagrin; it had been a snap decision. He'd figured that if he was going to take his clothes off he may as well make it as easy and quick as possible. Dean had certainly looked thrilled at the revelation; that alone had been worth it.

The camera angle shifted, splitting in some weird way to get a look at both Dean's face as Castiel's as Dean began to suck him down. Castiel tightened his grip on his cock in response, so desperately wanted to mimic that tight wet _heat _but was unable to, and groaned in disappointment. Fuck, his own hand just wasn't cutting it anymore; this was bad. Still, he stroked himself faster, replacing what he couldn't achieve with his own imagination and sat forward on the couch, almost bent over himself as he worked toward his release.

Then the best part came.

Castiel remembered it, clear as day; it's what he thought about when the women's high-pitched voices became too much for him and their panting in his ear and pleads for more could be substituted with raw, throat-fucked growls and moans; replaced with Dean. The little speech that Dean had rumbled into his ear – that fucking speech that had _ruined _Castiel – was the first dialogue in the movie to be heard clearly; "Want it, Cas, need it. Fuck, so hot…" _Damn it…_

Dean was so raw, so open right then…and that wasn't even the half of it. Castiel panted, cried out and came all over his hand when his on-screen self did as well, painting Dean's face with his come. _God, he'd have smelled like me. _And Dean had, for a while after that; he'd practically reeked of Castiel and Castiel found that he'd liked that – a base reaction and he didn't care.

The film cut, then, to the scene that they didn't know was being filmed. Castiel sat up straighter, drying come and recent orgasm forgotten, for this was where he would be able to decipher Dean's feelings towards him, at least at the time. Castiel would be able to see what Dean had thought about him when he wasn't putting on a show for the cameras.

The 'actor' Dean and the 'real' Dean were different, but not in how they treated Castiel; like something precious. Hot and dirty but breakable like fine china, and Dean handled him with such care, licking him open and then pushing into him with a finger, then two. Castiel clenched on reflex, almost whimpering at the emptiness he was suddenly so aware of. That feeling was building again; the feeling Castiel got whenever he was getting invested in a person…the feeling where you want to get so close, you're sharing skin, sharing breath. Where if your heart stopped beating the other person's would keep going enough for both of you, and you just want to spend forever as close to them as possible, to mark them in every way possible. The feeling was building to an intense ache in Castiel's chest, watching as first Dean stretched him and then fucked him, let him ride Dean like the animal he was. The camera positions were genius, the intensity and surprising intimacy in the film doing nothing to calm Castiel's suddenly rapid breathing and tightening chest. It felt like if panic attacks were caused by heartbreak.

He had to get control of himself; this was stupid. Dean Winchester was a porn star – a popular one at that. Castiel came a dime a dozen. If he stuck in Dean's mind as anything it was as some poor virgin sap who'd been stupid enough to give away everything to a guy who was going to pay him for it.

Sometimes bitterness is the only way Castiel can deal. It helped the ache in his chest a little bit.

But he wasn't that good of a liar, especially to himself. And when Dean finished inside him and leant down on the screen to capture his lips in a kiss that was meant for lovers, not actors, Castiel couldn't control himself anymore. He wasn't aware he was crying until the cold, salty drops fell onto his hand, still covered in dried and flaking come.

He hurriedly wiped the tears away with his sleeve, tucking himself in, and froze when he felt the door opening behind him; the door to the corridor outside. The door that anyone could come through and see him now…

_Shit, shit, shit… _Castiel moved fast, but not fast enough. He tucked himself back in and made a grab for the remote, but not before someone's loud and booming voice was heard; "Castiel, what the fuck are you watching?"

…Fuck.

Uriel.

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**Author's Note: I just want to explain...this was mostly plot, yeah? Anyway, sorry about that...Alright, the reason for the vast difference in word count; I meant to write the first part as one long one shot (which I did) but when I posted it to LiveJournal, I ended up having to split it into three parts, because LJ is a bitch and won't let me post 13,000 word chapters at a time. Because of this, I'm shortening each part to about 5000 words, and so every chapter from here on out will be about that length. I don't like it, because I think each section that I write would be better as a long, flowing post (like chapter one, splitting it up just ruins the flow) but that's life. So...yeah.**

**Review if you love (:**

**HigherMagic x  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Chapter Specific: In this one there's gay-basher-bashing (really heavy) and prejudices and gay-hate. I do not support gay-bashing (obviously) so I bash the bashers pretty hard. If I offend anyone then I apologize, but they're kind of in the wrong story here.**

**Author's Note: Thanks to ** **sarahlizzie**** who puts up with me (and my bitching), being a fellow brainstormer and beta. Loves to you! (: **

* * *

**Monday – two days after Castiel received the DVD – Bobby's office.**

It was three rings before he picked up, and there was no chance to ask 'Hello?'. "Gabriel."

"Michael?" Disbelief, it's obvious in his brother's voice.

A pause, then; "Hello, brother."

"It's…been years. Why are you calling?" Suspicion now. Rightfully so; if anyone would be able to pick out the underlying anger in his brother's voice, it would be Gabriel, despite their separation; no one had been able to read his older brother like that son of a bitch.

Michael snarled the next words; "You've been spreading your little habits around, haven't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Castiel!" A slam of a fist on hard wood. "One of my best workers has been to _your fucking _studio and gone and turned into a queer! No fucking homo is going to be working in my offices, Gabriel. You have no right to go and turn good men into your cock-sucking whores."

"Michael…I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, you fucking fag! Castiel went to that whorehouse you work in, two weeks ago, and you fucking turned him into one of you! He was a good man and you've just turned him, made him into one of you! I won't have it; you pay for your own whores, I'm not paying him for you."

"Michael, listen to me -."

"No! It's done; I fired him this morning. If you want to find him, check the fucking street corners. I hear that's where your people like to be seen." He hung up then, and Gabriel was stunned into silence. Five years since he heard from his brother, and this is the first conversation they have.

Well…never call Gabriel a psychic, but he totally saw it coming.

* * *

**Two days before – that Saturday – Castiel and Uriel's apartment.**

_Shit…Shit, shit, shit, fuck!_

Desperate, Castiel scrambled for the remote and tried turning it off, but ended up only able to reach 'Pause' before the remote was snatched out of his hand by his burly roommate (who was apparently very quick on his feet). The picture froze with a close-up of Dean and Castiel, locked at the lips and holding each other close like old lovers, and Uriel's eyes kept moving from Castiel to the screen and back again. Castiel knew he must look a picture; eyes red-rimmed, clothes disheveled and drying come around his crotch and on his hand, not to mention what he'd actually been watching…Still, a stupidly hopeful – or desperate – part of him begged Uriel to just…not notice and let it go.

Unfortunately, Anna was there.

Anna Milton had been dating Uriel off and on for the past five years; during some of the 'off' parts she'd tried to get into Castiel's pants more than once, but of course Castiel wouldn't date his roommate's (ex)girlfriend, so he'd always refused her. On top of that general animosity, she was also Michael Santos' niece.

Castiel was _so _fucked.

"Uriel…I…" His throat was dry; he couldn't do this, or explain. What the hell was he meant to say? 'Um…yeah…about this…yeah.' Even in his mind he couldn't come up with a good excuse.

It took him a couple seconds to realize Uriel was grinning a little, that mirthful spark in his eyes that meant he was finding something hilarious. "So…Castiel…something you wanna tell me?" he asked, cocking his head to one side and gesturing vaguely at the screen with the remote. Anna was glaring at Castiel and if looks could kill he'd be crucified right now.

"Look…it's not what it looks like…I can explain…God…" Castiel's hands fisted in his hair – he was really starting to freak out now. The heartbreak-freak-out was turning into a legitimate freak-out. God, it would be just fantastic if he had a panic attack right here. "I just…it was weeks ago and I needed the money and…It happened once, Uriel, once. Please don't throw me out or anything, I -."

"Hey, Castiel, buddy…" Uriel stepped forward, placing his hands on Castiel's shoulders and looking the shorter, terrified man in the eye. "It's okay, alright? You're fine; just breathe, calm down…" Obediently Castiel took in a deep breath, hating that it was tainted with the stupid Axe deodorant Uriel insisted on wearing like a second skin – he hated that smell. Dean's was better, whatever it was he wore.

When Castiel felt like he wasn't about to collapse, he opened his eyes again, looking at his life-long friend and co-worker. Uriel, thankfully, didn't have hatred in his eyes; his smile was still there…He didn't look angry or uncomfortable.

"Now, whatever you get up to in your spare time is fine by me, as long as I don't have to know. So, if you could refrain from watching porn in the main room I'd appreciate it." Castiel was so surprised he broke into shaky, near-hysterical laughter, tears of relief building up behind his eyes – thank God; if Uriel got pissed and threw him out Castiel would have had no idea what to do. He pulled Uriel into a tight hug, near-sobbing into his friend's shoulder when Uriel returned the hug, almost squeezing the life out of him before they parted again. "Now take the DVD out and let's never talk about this again."

Castiel smiled again, this time adding the sheepish blush on top of it and went to retrieve the DVD, but was stopped by Anna's livid shriek; "What the fuck, Uriel? You're going to let this fag stay in your place?" Her nose wrinkled, disgust written all over her normally pretty face; "You could catch something."

Uriel rolled his eyes. "Homosexuality isn't a disease, Anna. And Cas won't jump me in my sleep, will ya man?" He nudged Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel smiled to cover up the discomfort at being called 'Cas' – that was Dean's thing, not anyone else's. Uriel stepped over to his girlfriend, who shrank back from him with another murderous glare in Castiel's direction, as though fearing she would catch something through Uriel. "Come on, Anna, lighten up."

"No way in hell." She stabbed a finger in the middle of Uriel's chest. "You call me when you come to your senses and throw this fag out on his cock-loving ass." She looked back to Castiel just in time to catch him flipping her the bird. Her eyes widened in surprise, and it was almost comical how red she got. "Just you wait until my uncle hears about this!" she screeched, turning around and slamming the door shut behind her, leaving Castiel and Uriel alone in the apartment.

Well… "Fuck, man, I'm sorry," Castiel said, guilty for the fact that Anna had basically dumped his roommate because of _his _activities. But still…he couldn't feel that bad because Anna was, quite obviously, a bitch. Still, knowing her she'd have a good pissy session, destroy Castiel's career, and then be back in Uriel's arms before the daylight ran out. "You shouldn't have to…"

"Nah, it's fine," Uriel said after a moment, turning back to look at Castiel with the same small smile on his face. "Anyone who treats my friends like that will get tossed out on her ass anyway. You should be more worried about you." At Castiel's head-tilt, Uriel continued; "She's totally ratting you out to Michael, probably right now. You could get in some deep shit, man."

Castiel shrugged, putting the DVD back in its case when the player opened, his fingers dragging over the picture on the casing for a moment as he stared down at the picture of Dean. Maybe…if things went really bad…Maybe…

He pushed the half-formed thought away before it could get too deep and looked back at his friend. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, okay?"

"Just watch out. Shit's gonna hit the fan come Monday."

Castiel almost smiled. "We'll see."

* * *

**Monday – Bobby's Office.**

Dean finally got news about Castiel, from Gabriel, surprisingly. Or perhaps not so much, but…still. Gabriel had come into the room looking like someone had just told him his puppy had been run over, walking into the room and immediately crawling into Sam's lap. Sam and Dean had just been shooting a fairly strenuous 'situation', 'Downstairs'. Dean's back felt like it was on fire – honestly, Alistair had it out for him, he was certain. Probably because Dean refused to bottom for him, refused to back down when they were working together. So Alistair took it out on his body; lashes, whips, toys…God, Dean hated the 'Downstairs' rooms. With a passion.

Sam winced as Gabriel curled up in his lap, but held him close anyway, ignoring the twinge in his shoulders that came with having been bound up for so long; Alistair was about the pain, but Azazel was about restraint and control. They both sucked but Dean would take Azazel over Alistair any day.

Stroking through his lover's hair, Sam asked him what was wrong.

"Michael called," Gabriel muttered, curling his fingers into the front of Sam's shirt as he spoke into the younger man's chest. Immediately both Sam and Dean were alert. "Ripped me a bunch of new ones over the phone. Stupid bigoted bastard."

"What happened? Why did he call?" Dean asked, certainty making dread coil in his gut like a leaden snake.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You know why; he found out about your boyfriend. Apparently Michael's niece found out and she is just like her uncle – homophobic right down to the core. She ratted Castiel out and Michael decided that apparently it was my fault."

"Oh, Gabe, I'm sorry," Sam muttered into the smaller man's hair, running a hand down his back. Gabriel sighed; Sam knew how much Michael's rejection of him – though it was years ago – had torn Gabriel up. So much so that he'd just had to leave the family altogether. It sucked but that was life.

"What about Cas?" Dean questioned after a few minutes of silence. Yeah, Gabriel's life sucked, it was true and his family were bigoted, ignorant bastards but Dean had more concern for the true victim here.

Gabriel fixed Dean with a look. "Michael fired him. He'll probably make it so that Castiel will never get a job in this city again. Fucking idiot; I swear if I could knock some sense into that thick skull of his…" Gabriel trailed off again, and Dean sat back against the couch. Castiel was _fired. _Because of him? God…

"You can't just fire someone for being gay," Sam protested, frowning over at his brother. "Surely that's illegal."

"Michael's powerful," Gabriel replied bitterly, "he can do whatever the hell he wants. No one's there to stop him. I'm sure he'll find some legal loophole or make up some clause in Castiel's contract that says whatever he is is illegal, but as Michael put it; 'No fucking homo is going to be working in my offices'."

"It'll be alright, Dean," Sam said, noticing how dark his brother's expression was; Dean had only worn that face when the doctors told him their father was going to die in six months. "Cas'll land on his feet. He seems smart."

"Not smart enough to stay away from here," Dean snapped in reply, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go find him."

"And do what?" Gabriel said, looking up at Dean, his tone sarcastic. "You've known the guy a day, Dean. Less than that. You need to let go of this stupid lovesick puppy thing you've got going on and _move _the fuck _on _with your life."

_Like you can talk…_ Dean kept mercifully silent about that. Gabriel didn't know shit, and he certainly didn't have shit to preach; from the moment little barely-legal-eighteen-year-old Sammy had waltzed onto the set on his first day, John's newest recruit, Gabriel had been heels over head in love with Dean's little brother. It had taken one look, one smile and one flash of eyes underneath those ridiculously floppy bangs and Gabriel'd been hooked. From the way Gabriel's expression changed, looking up at Dean, it was like the man could tell what he was thinking; his eyes softened as his grip tightened on Sam's forearm.

"Just be careful, alright? I wouldn't put it past Michael to get violent."

Dean rolled his eyes, shook his head, and left the room. He had to find Chuck; Chuck would know the shipping address and therefore Castiel's home address. He couldn't call but he could find the guy, make sure he was okay.

Screw being careful, and to hell with listening to what his head was telling him; Dean needed to see Castiel. He knew that doing so would ruin anything platonic between them, but that was okay; _there was something there…_ And Dean was willing to just man up and take a dive for once in his life.

He could only hope Castiel was as open to the suggestion.

Castiel didn't live far – ten minutes away by car, but Dean chose to walk. Trying to get anywhere at five in the afternoon on a Monday wouldn't do anything for his blood pressure or headache, and the walk felt good on his used and sore muscles. Having an infallible sense of direction, and having lived in this city since his mother died when he was four, Dean didn't have any trouble finding Castiel's apartment. It was one of the lesser-high-class joints; there wasn't marble in the foyer but at least there were elevators. Dean was grateful for that; he didn't much like the idea of walking up ten flights of stairs when his legs were still killing him from Alistair's damned spreader bars – seriously; whoever invented those…shoot them.

Castiel lived on one of the upper floors, and from what Dean could tell there were three apartments per floor, all centered around the one elevator and staircase which was in the middle. There was probably a design flaw in there somewhere. Dean went to the eleventh floor, to number twenty-nine. Castiel's apartment. Knocking on the door, he only hoped the poor guy hadn't been thrown out on his ass and he'd have to go searching on the streets.

The guy who answered the door was definitely _not _Castiel – dark-skinned and huge. He had at least forty pounds on Dean in muscle…and to make matters worse, his eyes widened in recognition when he saw Dean. That could either turn into a good or very, very bad thing.

"Can I help you?" the guy asked, and Dean fought down the insane jealous stab he felt in his gut at the thought that this guy might be…_with _Castiel. Well, he was in his apartment…could be roommates but Dean had no idea, and he didn't _want _to think about it.

But Dean smiled, laying the charm on thick as he answered; "Yeah, I'm looking for Castiel. Is he here?" He leaned his weight to one side, fixing the 'I'm-so-adorable-and-I-can-get-away-with-pretty-much-anything-because-people-just-want-to-pet-me' smile on his face and held the guy's gaze. He chose to ignore the once-over he received before the guy looked at his face again.

"And you would be…?"

_Wow, I'm not getting an inch here. _"Sorry; my name's Dean. Winchester." He held his hand out and shook the guy's hand, keeping his grip purposely loose – didn't want to make it seem like he was trying to size the guy up; he seemed like that protective 'dominant male' type. "I'm a friend of Cas'."

The guy smirked. "I'm Uriel, Castiel's roommate." And Dean's totally _did not _sag with relief at hearing the platonic relationship mentioned. Roommate – he could work with roommate. Uriel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frame of the door. He looked like he was about to speak but suddenly a lithe redheaded woman appeared at his side.

"Uriel, what's taking so -?" She stopped, looking over at Dean, who stifled the urge to do the automatic 'How you doin'?' that he just _had _to do to all women, regardless of the fact that he preferred different anatomy. Again, there was a spike of _something _at the thought that _this _person was close to Castiel…but… "You! What the fuck, Uriel? You just having a huge queer party here?" Yeah, totally not a gay-lover. Awesome.

Uriel rolled his eyes and Dean snorted; "Bitch, you're just jealous 'cause I get to have sex with gorgeous men all day, every day."

…Yeah, that was probably a stupid thing to say. He'd come here to check on Castiel, not make enemies…but homophobes just pissed him off. Especially when they were chicks, for some reason, because okay – he can understand a male not wanting/understanding the whole guy-guy thing. He got that – didn't like how they expressed their dislike, but he got it – but honest to God, Dean had met so few women who didn't think guy-guy action was just _hot. _So it confused him…it was like men watching lesbians and _they _didn't get crap for it. Freaking hypocrites.

Anyway…digressing. Right; making enemies. Not good.

But Uriel was grinning, both at Dean's remark and Anna's stunned reaction, as though she hadn't expected a _fag _to have the backbone to stand up to her. Obviously there needed to be more Dean Winchesters in the world to put that bitch in her place.

"…Dean?"

The two parted like the Red Sea, revealing Castiel who was staring at Dean with a slack-jawed expression. Dean would have laughed if it weren't for the sudden _lurch _his heart gave, seeing that beautiful man again. _Yep, definitely wasn't a one-time thing._

"Hey, Cas." And just like that his throat was dry. Dean didn't move as Castiel stepped forward, Anna avoiding him like he carried plague and Uriel just backing away to give the two of them privacy, door almost-closing behind him as Dean and Castiel were left standing out in the hallway. "I heard about your job," Dean said, wanting to break the ice; "I'm sorry."

And Castiel almost smiled. "Don't be sorry. I don't regret it." There were a thousand messages hidden behind his words, in his eyes, and Dean wanted to read every one of them. "I…It's really good to see you, Dean."

The younger man smiled, the expression lighting up his eyes and Castiel's breath caught. There it was again; the intensity. He had to be closer. But he held himself back, wanting control…for now. He had no idea how Dean felt about him, after all. His conviction was not enough to alter the rules of the world and make it true.

"I wish I'd come sooner," Dean replied, looking down and shuffling his feet for a moment, looking unsure. It's the first time Castiel's seen Dean hesitant, and he doesn't like it; Dean is a confident person, always in his element. Hell, when confronted with Anna he'd had a snarky comment ready to hand; hesitant didn't go with Dean.

Dean was younger than Castiel. Not by much, but it seemed more obvious now. He was clearly so out of his element in the whole 'relationship' thing, which made sense. Castiel realized he would have to take the lead here.

"I'm glad you came," he said, and Dean's head snapped up at Castiel's lowered voice, gravel-rough. His eyes widened in surprise when Castiel stepped forward, but he didn't back down – Dean Winchester doesn't back down – and so the two men found themselves inches – millimeters – apart, and Castiel looked up the small, perfect height difference to Dean's eyes, his own blazing. "I've missed you."

"I've -." The agreement, the repeated sentiment was cut off as Castiel pulled Dean's head down for a kiss. Immediately Dean's hands found Castiel's hair, sliding into the thick black locks and knotting there, keeping Castiel's head close and his lips sealed to the younger man's. When one of them moaned – Castiel's not sure which one – the other surged forward and claimed their mouth. It's wild and clumsy but _so good, _like a first kiss all over again and Castiel thinks that he could die right now a happy man.

But Dean's got other ideas. The hands that so desperately wanted to keep them close together now push and pull back and they're separated. That feeling has built again; Castiel is breathless with it. The rapid thudding of his heart in his chest – restricted and painful – is deafening in his ears, and Dean's lips are red and swollen and…Castiel sees a drop of blood on Dean's lip, and realized he bit down hard enough to draw it. He wants closer; needs to be closer like he needs to breathe, but Dean's not letting him move in again and it's _painful, _this feeling, this intensity.

It's happening all over again.

"We need…to talk about some things," Dean muttered, voice raw and low and so thick with want that Castiel's breathing eases a little bit, knowing Dean is just as affected as he is; that's a good thing. Castiel needs to know this feeling isn't one-sided – it would kill him.

"Yes…talk," Castiel managed to gasp out, hands finding Dean's forearms where they rest near his face, as Dean still hadn't let go of his head and his hair. "We can…go inside…My room."

Dean's eyes darkened, and he smirked a little bit, and Castiel felt a little bit of his control slipping away.

"'_Come into my parlor,'_ said the spider to the fly…" he murmured to himself, shaking his head and pulled back, letting his hands slip free of Castiel's hair. The older man almost whimpered at the loss; Dean was just so warm and he missed it. Three feet from him and he missed the man.

Castiel covered up his want with amusement at Dean's quote; "Does that make me the spider, luring you inside?"

"I'm already caught." Right there; those three words…They could do this. Castiel's heart jumped again, and he was probably grinning a madman's grin, feeling the adrenaline of a near-kill that would be him _having _this man for himself…Reality could wait for now.

Lacing his fingers with Dean's, Castiel pulled him inside and ignored Anna's glare and Uriel's indulgent smile.

Castiel's room wasn't…welcoming. The man hadn't lived in it very much the past couple of weeks; it wasn't dirty, but it wasn't clean either. The bedsheets were rumpled from someone who couldn't be bothered to straighten them after sleeping, there were a few dirty clothes on the floor but the rest were put away in their rightful places, or in a hamper in the corner. The curtains were shut, casting the room into shadow that the pitiful overhead light did little to chase away. One wall was lined with closets, and there was an en-suite bathroom that gleamed white with green tiles behind a semi-open door. The air was cold, as though Castiel didn't bother heating it and Dean could only think that the bed looked more and more warm and welcoming by the minute. Perhaps that was the intention.

They sat on the edge of the bed, fingers still intertwined, and Castiel ran his thumb over the back of Dean's hand, staring at them for a long while, saying nothing. For the longest time – a month, a year, five minutes – the only sound was their breathing, before Castiel finally spoke;

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that day." If Dean was shocked at the declaration, he didn't show it. Not that Castiel moved to see his face, so he wouldn't have noticed anyway. "I just…I know you probably don't feel the same way –," _or won't admit it, "_- but I want to at least…I don't know…try. I want…something…with you."

Dean's breath caught in his throat at the awkward, stilted sentiment. He wanted to say something – anything, damn it – but he couldn't; his mouth was opening but nothing was coming out. Finally, when he did manage to speak, he said the wrong thing; "Come work with me."

Castiel turned questioning blue eyes to Dean, but Dean kept talking; "I already sorted everything out, as soon as I heard; you've got a job with me, where I work, if you want it." He was leaning forward, pushing Castiel back and Cas was letting him, soon lying underneath him on the bed while Dean hovered, shaking, above him, their lips inches apart. "We'd get to see each other every day, and work together, and…" Dean leaned down, brushing his lips along Castiel's jaw, "You'd be alright there. Accepted."

Now, everyone has that 'no dating in the workplace' thing; an unspoken rule that almost everyone breaks. Castiel wanted to break it, now. Things could get _so _wrong – what if he and Dean didn't work out and they were stuck together for years after? So many things could go wrong but Castiel couldn't honestly think of a single one…He _wanted _Dean, all the time. He wanted to smell him and smell himself on Dean all the time, to be able to walk up to him in his workplace and kiss him and drive him crazy, like Dean has been driving Castiel crazy. He _wanted, _he _lusted, _and Castiel is nothing if not goal-oriented.

"I'll let you think about it," Dean said when he didn't immediately respond, hand fisting the bed sheets next to Castiel's head. "You don't have to answer right now…but the offer's there."

_He's doing so much for me…_ Sweeping Castiel off his feet, and then picking him back up and putting him on steady ground. Dean was a paradox in himself and Castiel wanted to figure him out; make the unpredictable man predictable. Happiness, almost giddiness, swept through Castiel and he grinned, and found Dean's lips, and kissed him, pouring everything; gratitude, love, happiness, acceptance, lust, into that one unsatisfying kiss. It wasn't enough and it was too much. Castiel was suffocating under the weight of his feelings, his unnatural devotion to the man he'd known for six hours two weeks ago.

But Dean was offering himself, everything he was now, on a silver platter for Castiel, and the older man intended to gorge to his heart's content.

"Yes, Dean, _yes!" _Wild, frenzied, Castiel's hands searched and found warm, bare skin. They were both dressed casual; jeans, t-shirts, Dean wearing sneakers and Castiel just wearing socks, and the materials were too rough against Castiel's suddenly over-sensitive skin. Dean was full of jagged edges and Castiel was making himself raw in front of the man. A tilt of the head and the kiss deepened, Castiel taking control of that like he had before; stealing in, rough and greedy with it. He wanted to own this man so much he was almost violent with it, tearing at Dean's skin until he became aware of Dean's broken moan of pain.

He scrambled away, pushing Dean back, breathless. "Shit, Dean, I'm sorry," he said automatically, moving out from underneath Dean. The younger man didn't move, still on all fours on Castiel's bed, and Castiel would have to file that memory away for some other time, because that man looked fucking _amazing _like that, all young and shaking and beautiful in pain.

_Wow…I'm really messed up here._

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, reaching a hand out to the shoulder he'd bruised and that seemed to snap Dean out of it, looking up at Castiel with shining green eyes, the pain there clearly visible. "What did I do?"

"Wasn't you," Dean replied, pushing himself up to a kneeling position before he rested back on his heels. "I just…went Downstairs today."

'Downstairs'. Castiel remembered Dean mentioning that – he hadn't said what went on down there, but he could guess now. "That's where the rough stuff is, huh?" he guessed, feeling only sadly satisfied when Dean nodded, saying he was right. "Can I…Can I see?"

Dean fixed him with a quizzical look, his eyes guarded, before he slowly pulled his t-shirt over his head, baring his chest to Castiel before turning his back, exposing the damage. _"Fuck…" _The word slipped past Castiel's lips before he could stop it, seeing the criss-crossing whip marks, some of them still bleeding, on Dean's back. Underneath them was a continuing patch of bruise that stretched from Dean's shoulder to down his spine, and completely covering his lower back. How the man was still standing Castiel would never know.

He realized he'd never seen Dean's back before now. He was beginning to wonder if this was why.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Dean's unharmed shoulder, where there was simply one old cut along his skin between the blade and his spine. Dean tensed, and hissed when the action aggravated his wounds. Unrepentant, Castiel leaned forward and kissed the scar, and Dean leaned back against his warmth.

"How often do you go down there?" he asked, and Dean shrugged.

"About once every four months. Depends on how long it takes for the others to heal," he said, and Castiel felt anger rush through him, hot and sudden, at the thought of someone marking Dean like this. What scared him was that he was not angry that Dean was harmed at all, but that he hadn't been the one to do it.

The more intense, violent side of his attachments was making itself known.

Slowly, carefully, Castiel kissed down Dean's spine, feeling the man's muscles twitch and flutter underneath his gentle lips and hands wherever he touched, worshipping Dean's back with such intent, as though he were trying to heal him through that contact. By the time Castiel was finished, Dean was boneless and relaxed, and also achingly hard.

Dean turned, pushing Castiel onto his back again, kneeling between the man's spread legs. When they kissed Dean tasted blood – _his blood – _in Castiel's mouth, coppery and rich like come sometimes was. He moaned against the older man's mouth, again when Castiel gripped his shoulder blades, pain-pleasure lancing down his back.

"Cas," he growled against the other man, a hand tangling in the man's hair as he kissed Castiel, desperately, his hips pressing and grinding down against Castiel's as the other man bucked up against him, driving them more harshly together. "Fuck…Need you. Want you, so much…Cas…"

"Dean…" Castiel dug his nails into Dean's back, feeling that sensation build up again behind his eyes, in his throat, in his chest and cock. He needed to be closer…so much closer. He needed to _mark _and _claim _this beautiful man above him; wanted Dean to be able to feel him. Wanted to be inside of Dean, or keep Dean inside of him or _something…_ When Dean bit down at the corner of his jaw and at the sensitive, thin stretch of skin below his ear, the ache eased somewhat – and Castiel should be afraid that the only release from this intense feeling is pain – and he urged Dean on for more, baring more of his throat and taking over the grinding of their hips as Dean stuttered to a halt. One of Castiel's hands unbuttoned Dean's jeans and slipped inside, both of them too impatient to last long. He gripped Dean's cock tightly, wondering how the rigid flesh would feel in his mouth as he stroked and twisted his hand, wanting to get Dean off. He wanted the man to come all over Castiel's hand and then watch as Castiel licked it off; wanted him to see it and fucking _know _he belonged to Castiel now.

Dean shuddered, gasping into Castiel's mouth again as he ground down hard, wanting more of that delicious friction and pressure, and before he knew it he was coming. Hard. All over Castiel's hand and in his pants like a teenager – if Sam found out he'd never live it down.

So lost was he in his own release, he was hardly aware of biting down on Castiel's earlobe, growling out a raw 'Mine', and Castiel arching beneath him with a soundless gasp, releasing without Dean ever touching him, getting off on the possessiveness alone. Castiel's brain and heart _hurt _from the sensation, and the release was only a delay before it began to build again, and he wanted another round; he wanted Dean, again and again and again.

He wanted to own Dean, wanted to trap him and mark him and make Dean _his, _but he was already owned. Dean already had him, so completely.

The feeling was back.

And it was already getting out of hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note: Thanks to ** **sarahlizzie**** who puts up with me (and my bitching), being a fellow brainstormer and beta. Loves to you! (: **

**I'm sorry – this is just…filler. Porny filler. I planned on some actual plot development here but the boys got away from me. Sigh. Sorry; next chapter will have both plot and porn (:

* * *

**

After a while Dean coaxed Castiel into his en-suite bathroom, wanting to wash the come off each other before it got dry and uncomfortable – that had already begun to happen in Castiel's case, so it didn't take much to persuade him.

It was hard to behave when in the shower with Dean, so Castiel didn't even bother trying. The younger man was just too fucking beautiful, hair wetted down around his temples, green eyes bright and gorgeous skin slicked with the warm water. Whatever parts of him he didn't touch, Castiel tasted, relearning the flavor he'd never really forgotten from Dean's mouth, his neck and his chest. Castiel was soon on his knees for Dean, the water falling on his back while Dean warmed up his front, learning what the other man liked through direction and half-hissed orders.

Castiel had, of course, never done this before; he was learning, but Dean was patient and gentle with him, quickly finding out that long nights of chugging down whatever alcohol was thrust his way had pretty much destroyed Castiel's gag reflex and the older man had a knack for deep-throating, able to take in Dean's substantial length and girth right into his mouth and down, letting Dean into a _glorious _world of heat and tongue and _fuck_.

He just looked too gorgeous like that; when his hair was wet and messy from Dean's clenching fingers and his eyes were half-lidded and lust-black, and his pale skin was flushed from the heat of the shower and the effort of taking Dean into his mouth repeatedly. Castiel was temptation and Dean was so going to Hell – he couldn't care less.

When Dean came, he tasted like whiskey and leather, bitter and salty and Castiel eagerly swallowed all that he could. What he couldn't swallow straight away dribbled down from between his lips and past his chin, giving another layer of sin to that innocent exterior he always wore. Dean pulled Castiel to his feet immediately, sealing their lips together in a kiss that tasted of himself as he licked at the come on Castiel's face, like a cat at milk, eager, _desperate _for it almost. Castiel's heat, his taste, _everything _about him was just addictive.

When Dean reached down to grasp Castiel's own throbbing erection, the shorter man gasped into his mouth, and Dean swallowed a hungry moan as he thrust into Dean's tight fist, muttering little inane comments under his breath that the younger man could only half-hear, until Castiel came, shuddering, all over Dean's hand, his release quickly washed away by the rapidly cooling water.

They finished their shower and Castiel loaned Dean an old pair of pajama pants. They were a little short on the other man, but that didn't matter much when Dean was pressed to his back, bare skin to a thin cotton t-shirt that did nothing to deaden the warmth of Dean behind him. The younger man's arm draped itself over his waist and Castiel sighed, thinking that yes, he could definitely get used to this.

Who knew either of them were suited to such a domestic life.

Dean woke up the next morning in a stranger's bed and warm wetness on his back. The first part was no new thing, but that second sensation was definitely foreign. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it didn't seem…normal. Dean wasn't normally capable of thinking before he'd been awake for an hour and had had three cups of coffee, but one part of him was _definitely _rising to the occasion when the warm, wet sensation was accompanied by pressure at his shoulder blades, strong fingers digging into the muscle and forcing it to relax, and a body straddled his hips, well away from the healing cuts and welts along his back. Dean's moan was definitely pornographic when Castiel pressed the heels of his palms into the skin and muscle along Dean's spine, between his shoulder blades and he arched, shoulders flexing as he pushed his upper body up, forcing Castiel to put more pressure into the massage, which in turn caused him to release more moans, half-muffled against his bicep as Castiel tortured the sore, bruised muscle.

Dean wanted to just melt into the sheets underneath him, the massage absolutely amazing on his back, despite the fact that every touch was pain along the welts and bruises – it felt like stretching after a long bit of exercise, where you really don't want to do it but the stretch feel _so good _on your achy muscles, and you know it'll help you in the long run…And Castiel was doing _something _to his back that felt amazing. He moaned again, this time with his face buried in a pillow, shoulders tense under Castiel's unnaturally warm touch.

He gasped harshly when Castiel's hands turned sharp, digging into some of the bruising on his back hard enough to cause pain to spike right through him, and he turned his head in time to catch Castiel's eye when the older man leaned forward, voice rasping into his ear;

"Don't hide those pretty sounds from me, Dean," he demanded, and yeah, Dean totally shuddered at the possessive, dominant tone in Castiel's voice, and a little part of him he didn't even know existed rolled over and submitted immediately, incensed by how Castiel's thighs gripped his hips hard, his fingers dug into his shoulders more sharply. He swallowed another low groan before it could escape, head falling forward; "Come on, Dean, don't make me repeat myself."

_Fuck…_ Dean let himself fall onto the bed again, the muscles of his back twitching under Castiel's warm hands, pain mixed with pleasure as the sensitive cuts on his back were traced and touched, and that warm wetness returned again. It took Dean a moment to realize that Castiel was _licking his wounds, _like a dog, and that shouldn't be hot, or comforting, but it was. It was so _good, _and his erection throbbed painfully, trapped between his body, the weight of Castiel on his back, and the bed.

He hadn't been able to help it; Dean looked so beautiful when he slept, face relaxed and making him look so much younger; innocent almost, and his _back, _so torn and yet so perfect as well, and it had made Castiel want to _mark _the younger man, cover those scars with his own. Make them permanent. He'd just had to touch, and so he did. It was like there was no self-restraint around this man; Castiel was pretty sure he'd jump Dean in front of Michael if Dean kept being…_Dean. _God, it's crazy how much Castiel wants – needs – him right now.

"God, Cas, so good," Dean growled, letting out a sound that was totally _not _a whimper when Castiel withdrew his punishing-fantastic hands and shifted his weight, taking all of it onto his knees so Dean could only feel him around his waist, and pulled Dean's shoulder until the younger man lay on his back beneath him, at which point Castiel sat back down quickly, pinning him with his weight. Dean's eyes were hungry, near-black when they met Castiel's own lust-blown blue, and the older man leaned down to capture Dean's lips in another near-savage kiss.

God, it felt amazing to just be able to let go like this and give into what he _wanted, _taking what he craved from Dean and knowing that the man would be able to give it without breaking. Women just weren't the same as hard muscle and smooth lines, devoid of curves, and low rasps of his name in his ear when Castiel pressed _down, _Dean's erection fitting perfectly behind him, the only thing separating them two layers of very flimsy material that Castiel was fairly confident he could rip apart if it came to that.

Dean, for all his credit, was a very conscientious lover, freely giving himself to Castiel in his kiss, although he did tense when Castiel reached behind himself, pulling at one of Dean's thighs so they would be forced to spread. Castiel was willing to let it go as Dean almost instantly relaxed, and found himself mulling over the thought that there really should be some punishment for resisting him.

Still, Castiel might be completely insane, but Dean _didn't need to know that_ yet, so he contented himself with forceful kissing, rutting against each other like they were teenagers. Dean's hands found his hips and he pushed Castiel back so their cocks rubbed against each other behind the thin pajama pants and they moaned into each other's mouths, wanting to be quiet for the sake of Castiel's roommate and his gay-bashing girlfriend, but also wanting to hear each other – loud and unrestrained. Dean wanted to make Castiel _beg; _Castiel wanted to hear Dean _scream. _

They broke away from each other when the need to breathe outweighed the desire to keep themselves locked together, and Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's heaving chest, enjoying the scent of Dean mixed with himself and loving the knowledge that Dean would smell like him for a while – all the time, if he had anything to say about it. "When do you have to go into work?" he managed to gasp out, hating that fact that his heart _squeezed _painfully at the thought of Dean leaving him, even for that very necessary diversion.

Dean chuckled, running a hand through Castiel's hair gently. "We, Cas, when do _we _go into work?" And Castiel smiled, for he had forgotten about his acceptance last night – the ache in his chest eased knowing that he would be around Dean almost twenty-four-seven, now. "And we don't – I arranged so we both get Tuesdays and Saturdays off. We have the whole day to ourselves now."

Castiel's smile was positively wicked. "Oh, really? So I get you all…" He leaned down, pressing a kiss to right below Dean's jaw, forcing the younger man's head back and exposing his throat, "…to…" He trailed lower, catching one of Dean's nipples between his teeth and tugging sharply, grinning like a Cheshire Cat when Dean gasped and arched, _so fucking beautiful_… "myself? All day?" Dean's hand tightened in his hair, the other on his hip and the younger man bucked slightly, desperate for some pressure against his cock as Castiel continued to mark him with his tongue and lips, sucking bruises onto Dean's skin, across his chest and stomach and stopping right above the waistband of the pants he wore.

Dean cursed him when Castiel stopped; eyes blazing like blue fire from under his lashes and a fringe of still-damp hair when their eyes met. Castiel could feel the heat radiating from between Dean's legs, smell the musky scent of his arousal and he just wanted to _taste, _but he held himself back – it was time to explore how vocal Dean could get when pushed.

After all, Castiel wanted to hear him scream.

He curled his hand, rubbing the heel of his palm against the base of Dean's erection through his pants, the tips of his fingers skimming along the underside further up and grinning when Dean hissed, one hand clenching a little in Castiel's hair. Dean tried to pull him down but Castiel resisted, increasing the pressure of his hand until he felt Dean shake beneath him. He leaned down, still keeping that eye contact – he was pretty sure neither of them had blinked the entire time – and mouth at the tip of Dean's cock, exhaling loudly so his warm breath skimmed completely over Dean, and the younger man gasped and moaned, a soft 'Fuck, Cas' escaping him. Castiel felt Dean's cock twitch underneath his hand.

"Come on, Dean, let me hear you," he muttered, voice almost a growl, and had the fleeting thought that for someone who'd seemed very vocal with such a filthy mouth in front of the cameras could suddenly turn so reticent and shy with him. "Tell me what you want."

"I want…_fuck, Cas, _I…" Dean choked on his words when Castiel finally – fucking _finally _– pulled the waistband of the pajama pants over his hips, careful to avoid stimulating his cock any further, and pulled them down his legs. Suddenly Dean felt very exposed – completely naked where Castiel was still almost fully dressed – and so he sat up, pulling Castiel into his lap in an attempt to cover his nakedness. His hands dipped under the hem of Castiel's t-shirt, large hands splaying over the smooth, pale, unmarred skin. Castiel was burning up under his touch, the older man's breathing somewhat heavy and harsh in his bedroom, and Dean felt a little better knowing he wasn't the only one affected here.

His hands ran themselves up along Castiel's incredibly sensitive spine, making the older man quiver against him and lift his arms so Dean could pull his shirt off, get more of that warm skin-to-skin contact. Castiel's legs fell either side of Dean's hips, and from the way Dean's arms kept themselves strong around him, encircling him, Castiel felt he'd lost this battle for now. He'd try again later, but right now his own need was making itself known and he didn't have the patience to get Dean to submit to him today.

Maybe later, or tomorrow.

He had all the time in the world, after all.

Dean's hands dug into the back of his pants, pushing them down his legs as far as they could go, stopped by their position, so Castiel quickly pushed himself away to shed them and was back in Dean's lap within a few seconds again, eager. "Want to fuck you, Cas," Dean growled into his ear, raking his nails down Castiel's spine, and _yes, _that definitely sounded like a plan. "Lube?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head; he didn't have any.

"Alright…just gonna have to improvise then…" Before Castiel could ask what Dean meant, two fingers were being pressed against his lower lip, the pressure forcing his mouth open before he gave it any conscious thought, and immediately he sucked at them, coating them liberally in saliva as he realized what Dean planned to do. It was probably going to hurt, but hey – love is violent sometimes. It certainly is with him.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean growled, watching as his fingers repeatedly disappeared into Castiel's mouth, coming out all wet and shiny as Castiel's tongue went to work, and Dean _knew _what that mouth felt like on his cock and it did _nothing _to quell his over-active imagination. "God, so fucking pretty…" Castiel moaned quietly around his fingers, their eyes locking for a brief moment, and Dean couldn't wait anymore.

He pulled his fingers out, grinning a little when Castiel tried to chase them, and instead occupied Castiel's mouth with a kiss as he reached around the other man, finding his entrance easily. Circling, he waited until Castiel relaxed enough for him to push in, and the other man's arms encircled his shoulders as he pushed his first finger in to the second knuckle, almost purring in encouragement when Castiel's body graciously accepted it, clenching only slightly at first to try and force him out. Dean withdrew a little and pushed back in, stretching the muscle gently and coaxing it to relax, to be able to fit more of his fingers and eventually himself.

Dean didn't even realize he was speaking for a long moment, so lost was he in the feeling of Castiel, tight and hot and welcoming around his finger, remembering that virgin channel as though it were only yesterday he'd had Castiel. "God, missed this, missed _you. _Fuck, Cas, couldn't stop thinking about you." He withdrew his first finger, adding the second with it, and Castiel clenched and moaned and shuddered around him, forcing his muscles to relax at the too-dry breach. "Been wanting you ever since that first day, needed you." He growled these words between their kissing, turning more savage the closer he got to his goal, and Castiel answered him with equal fervor, heat pooling in his belly as the trash-talking Dean he knew and lusted after was beginning to surface.

"Dean, me too – fuck – me too. Fuck me, now! I'm ready for it," Castiel answered, his voice low and raspy and such a complete turn-on that Dean had to _really _control himself from ending this before he'd even started. He spat into his palm, slicking up his cock as much as he could before lining himself up.

"This will hurt," he warned.

Castiel shook his head, burying his face into Dean's neck; "Don't care, want it. Been wanting it. Come on, Dean; fuck me!"

Dean was all-too happy to oblige – he gripped himself tight around the base, staving off his orgasm as he pushed in slowly, oh-so-slowly. The angle didn't allow the deepest penetration, but that was probably a good thing considering how little prep and slick they had. Dean sank in as far as he dared, as slowly as he could manage as Castiel's body gripped him, tried to pull him in further and keep him there. "Fuck, Cas, so greedy for it…" His hands found Castiel's hips, gripping tight enough to bruise as he shifted his body, just slightly, so that his legs could stretch out in front of him and he could have a little more control over their pace and angle, and squeezed Castiel's ass just once, encouraging; "Ride me, Cas," he ordered, "Come on."

And Castiel did, rising up and sinking back down slowly, torturously slowly until Dean couldn't take it anymore – his own brand of dominance, of torture; forcing Dean to take control and at the same time accept him as the one setting the pace here, in control of this and it was confusing, a two-sided coin, both of them sprinting and just trying to keep up with each other.

"Come on, come on," Dean growled, pushing his feet into the mattress to get more leverage, able to thrust as deeply as he could into Castiel's body, and the older man yelped when Dean's cock grazed his prostate, tossing his head back, nails digging into Dean's chest. Dean moaned, a low rumble in his chest when the action made Castiel clench tightly around him, and without the slick it was almost impossible to move until Castiel relaxed again. The man was so _hot _and _tight _and Dean wasn't going to last long at all.

He wrapped a hand around Castiel's flushed, reddened cock, stroking at a punishing pace, desperate to get Castiel off before he did. The older man shuddered to a halt, a broken groan falling from his parted, full lips as he bent almost double over Dean, bracing himself on the other man's chest and he came, shuddering and almost vibrating with the release, painting Dean's stomach and hand with his come while he panted, eyes wide open and staring down at Dean in a mix of wonder, lust and satisfaction.

Dean smirked up at him, milking him through his orgasm as Castiel settled down on his cock, fully seated and breathing hard. He reached a come-soaked hand up and ran it though Castiel's hair, smiling a little as, instead of shying away or wrinkling his nose at the distasteful gesture, he turned his head into Dean's hand, licking lightly at his palm, and the feeling of his rough tongue running over Dean's sensitive skin made the younger man shiver, and his cock twitched in Castiel's ass, reminding them both that they were kind of in the middle of something.

It was time to take back control. Castiel smiled down at Dean, the expression both gentle and wicked as he rocked again, growling just a little as Dean's erection grazed his prostate again, and his spent cock twitched feebly at the sensations, over-sensitive. He wanted to take it slow, maybe even get another orgasm out of it while he made the beautiful younger man wait, but honestly he wanted to feel Dean's warm release inside of him, was impatient for it, and wanted to see if he could make Dean lose control.

He gripped onto Dean's shoulders, rolling them over so that Dean fell between his spread legs, and the gasp of surprise was lost in a soft moan – Dean had become quiet again – when he thrust in involuntarily, allowed to get deeper in this position.

Castiel gripped Dean's too-short hair – although he'd let it grow longer, so there was slightly more to grip on to – and pulled the younger man's head up, forcing Dean to look at him, to lock and hold his gaze. "Your turn, Dean," he said, wrapping his legs around Dean and pulling, trying to force him in deeper with that hold.

Dean smirked, and Castiel felt a surge of triumph at the gleam in his lover's eyes.

Turns out Dean could be pretty violent and forceful when he wanted to be, and Castiel loved it. There were thrusts so hard he could feel them in his throat, forcing the air from his lungs which Dean rapidly refilled through a kiss, breathing into Castiel. His hands gripped the older man's waist tightly, and there'd be bruises there later, and Castiel repaid the painful gift with claw marks on Dean's back, to match the wounds from the crop and toys. When Dean finally stilled, fully buried inside Castiel's tight, dry heat, and came, he buried his face into Castiel's neck and _bit down, _almost hard enough to break skin. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but the pain was negated by Castiel's burning sense of accomplishment, that even by submitting he had managed to bend Dean to do what he wanted.

He couldn't wait to explore this new relationship – the ultimate dominance still eluded him, but Castiel had time. He'd make Dean his before the time ran out.

Dean continued to rock into Castiel, forcing his release more deeply into the other man, before he pulled out, sweaty and spent and collapsed next to Castiel. Dean allowed himself to be manhandled until he was resting mostly on his front, pillowing his head on Castiel's chest, the older man's fingers stroking through his hair.

They fell asleep like that, and woke up two hours later for another round. The Tuesday was whiled away in a whirlwind of sex, food, sleep and repeated showers, and they didn't leave the apartment all day. If Dean felt any reservations about becoming so attached so quickly to another man, he didn't show it. And Castiel…well, Castiel was all about the encouragement.

He couldn't wait until tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note: ** **sarahlizzie**** abandoned me to go vacationing in the states -_- So…this was unbeta'd. I checked it myself but sometimes I miss things – if you see anything please let me know! And I'm sorry – I seem to be able to do porn, or plot, but not both at the same time. And I left with a cliffhanger, right as I'm about to disappear for a month. Sigh, I know I'm evil. *hangs head*.**

* * *

"My jaw hurts."

Dean laughed, looking over his shoulder to where Castiel was just managing to drag his lazy ass out of bed. In his defense, Dean had worn him out pretty good – soon enough Castiel would have amazing stamina, but as it was the guy needed _eight whole hours _of sleep a night. Dean snorted, rolling his eyes – _N00b. _

"Yeah, I tend to get that a lot," he replied, turning his attention back to the bacon and eggs he'd been frying up before Castiel woke, hoping to surprise him with breakfast in bed or something. It seemed like the social norm. But hey – he was perfectly okey with coherent conversation at the dining room table as well. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Over easy," Castiel replied.

Dean snorted again; "Of course you do."

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. How'd you sleep?"

"Really well," Castiel replied, leaning against the end of the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest as he watched Dean. "You seem very at home in my kitchen."

Dean smirked; "Well, I've been up for a couple of hours and it gave me plenty of time to get comfy. Besides, it's not like there's much to explore." He gestured to the small space, and Castiel conceded the point. "Now go on, get dressed and pretty so we can go to work."

"So pushy," Castiel muttered, grinning anyway and dodging when Dean threw a greasy paper towel at him. "Fine, fine, but that better be a damned good breakfast to make up for this abuse."

It was remarkable how easily they fell into a routine – scarily so, in fact. Like they were so in sync that it was just so _natural. _Castiel felt like he was high – an experience he had only felt once at his friend Jimmy's encouragement and as a result had spent many weeks in therapy screaming about giant green spiders, apocalypses and the witnesses – and from the way Dean kept grinning at nothing, he knew he wasn't the only one.

They were both just riding the wave of bliss before the real roadblocks started showing up – relationships weren't easy, and they both knew that. They suffered no illusions about how difficult their lives were about to get. Castiel still suffered an insanely possessive urge to mark Dean, and Dean still had that sort of slippery slope sensation in that he was aware that he'd just jumped into bed and a relationship with a man he knew next-to-nothing about, and was perfectly okay with that.

Still, he wanted to get to know Castiel. Now that he had him, it seemed like they had more time – the tension and the urgency he'd been feeling in the older man's absence was gone.

So that first morning was pretty good. The breakfast _was _fantastic, and Castiel dressed in jeans and a t-shirt to go to work for the first time since he was a teenager and had gotten his first job at 'White Castle'. He carried a duffle bag on his shoulder full of extra sets of clothes, because Dean wisely pointed out that sometimes their jobs got messy and you don't want to walk home smelling like come just because you had no spares.

Dean had walked to Castiel's place, and the morning was bright and sunny, so they decided on walking back to the suite as well. It gave them time to start talking.

"You've been working at that place since you were eighteen?"

"Even before that," Dean answered with a shrug, his t-shit (the same one from Monday, but he didn't smell gross for it) clinging to him like a second skin. "My Dad wanted to keep an eye on me so got me a job there as an assistant when I was about fifteen, then when I was old enough I started working in front of the cameras. I guess the viewers really liked me 'cause I'm always getting requests and stuff for videos." He smirked a little at the high talk of himself, rubbing the back of his head.

Castiel was enthralled; "You take requests?"

Dean smiled. "Of course – how else are you going to know what the public wants? If a concept or idea gets popular enough, Adler listens and makes it happen. We have a website that people can go to and write their suggestions and I guess after something gets twenty votes or whatever it goes to him for consideration."

"That's…actually very clever," Castiel replied. "And quite an elegant way to keep viewers anonymous as well, for those who wouldn't want it on record that they watch porn like you provide."

Dean laughed, a sound that Castiel was very quickly coming to love. "Yeah. Chuck and Bobby came up with the plan. I guess they knew a lot of under-the-radar guys who wanted to see certain things." There was a pause, then; "How long had you been working at that company before…?" He let the sentence trail off, as there was no need to finish it.

"Four years. My roommate got me in with our branch manager and I guess he liked me. It wasn't the most stimulating job but it put food on the table," Castiel replied, switching the duffle from one shoulder to another.

Dean noticed. "Do you want some help with that?"

"No, I couldn't….Your back."

A laugh, and a shake of his head. "I'm sure I can handle a duffle bag, Cas. Don't worry – you haven't broken me."

"How often do you go 'Downstairs'?" Castiel asked, ignoring the 'breaking' comment, and the sudden feeling that, if he'd gotten what he'd really wanted, he _would _have broken Dean. "I mean, you said it depends on how quickly the others rotate but…it was two weeks between when you went after I had left, and Monday…"

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sidestepped a homeless man in the street, tossing a couple of quarters into his outstretched hand as he passed. "Our most popular sub got herself pregnant and we can't exactly do BDSM on a pregnant lady. Normally I go down every four months or so, because she's so popular, but BDSM is a highly requested category, and I guess there's something about men in pain that turns people on. My schedule had recently shifted so I go down on the Fridays and Mondays, and gets the Saturdays and Tuesdays off to recover. That's why my back was so messed up." He shrugged, sticking his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, eyes on the ground like this bit of conversation made him uncomfortable.

Maybe it did. Castiel was learning that there were two sides to Dean – maybe more; the flirty, sexy, God-of-the-bedroom-and-camera Dean, who acted like the porn star he was and wasn't shy about anything, ready to take on whatever was thrown his way, sexual or otherwise, a real 'Screw the World I'm doing whatever the fuck I want' kind of guy; and then there was the quieter, more subdued man. The man who'd fidget and blush at a leering gaze and smiled more than he smirked, and was softer around the edges than his other persona. Castiel loved them both, and the latter seemed more obvious today.

"Will I have to go 'Downstairs'?" Castiel asked, cocking his head to one side, not sure how he liked the idea of getting hurt to get himself or other people off. Of course, he could see himself hurting…hell, he _had _hurt people in the heat of the moment. And he liked it – liked biting, clawing, _marking…_but that wasn't exactly the same as BDSM. That was for stronger stomachs – he might not even be able to handle it.

"When we get there Bobby'll have a contract ready for you to sign. Amidst all the legal crap will be what is essentially a checklist of what you are and are not willing to do. If you say that you are not willing to do something they can't force you, and…" Dean looked down, pausing again, softening again as the latter him became more evident, "If you do sub 'Downstairs', the Doms will be all over you like flies on fresh meat. I wouldn't…well, I wish I'd had the foresight enough to not tick that box. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Castiel nodded absently, distracted by the image of Dean, chained on his hands and knees to rings embedded in a cold concrete floor, shaking from a mix of fear, pain and need, head hanging between his quivering arms. Of that proud, beautiful, dominant man brought to _nothing _by _his _hand, caressing the muscles of Dean's back and legs before he struck the man with something – anything – to make him jerk and cry out, to make him scream. Of opening Dean roughly with something…a toy, perhaps, like beads or a vibrator, slapping that fucking _gorgeous_ ass until it was red and then digging his nails into Dean while he fucked him from behind, the man unable to move away due to his restraints.

_Fuck…that's not a _normal _thing to think, Cas._

And he knew that – _fuck, _did he know that – but the image was so…alluring. Dean would be so pretty when in pain, and Castiel couldn't help think to himself that, if there was an option, he would sign up for training to be a Dom 'Downstairs', at least so that he might be able to see Dean for himself, shaking and young and needy and completely laid bare.

* * *

"There you are!" Sam exclaimed once Dean and Castiel walked into Bobby's office, greeting them both with a grin as he enveloped Dean in a massive 'manly hug', and Castiel was sure Dean was fighting for breath at the end of it; he slammed his fist on Sam's back and grated out 'Uncle'. "We thought you'd run off and joined the circus."

Dean laughed like this was an old joke between them. "Please, bitch, you'd miss me too much and I don't do well around animals." Sam snorted. "Now move out of the way, Sasquatch, I got myself some new meat that needs to sign stuff and put stuff away." He made shooing motions with his hands and Sam laughed as he moved away, letting them have room to pass by.

Castiel felt a warm, large hand on his shoulder, and turned to see the younger Winchester staring down at him in a mixture of sincerity and darkness; "I'm glad you're here, Cas, but if you fuck anything up I'm going to hunt you down."

Sam smiled, clapped Castiel on the shoulder, and headed off.

_This is a very strange family, _he thought to himself, shaking his head as he followed Dean to the room – full of lockers of various shapes and sizes – where the employees kept all their stuff during the day. There was an empty one next to Dean's, which he opened and gestured to with a tilt of his head.

"You can use this one – hasn't been owned since one of the girls had a baby and dropped out."

"It seems like a lot of the employees here get pregnant," Castiel said, stuffing his duffle into the locker as well as he could – it was deceptively small and the opening was just too small to be convenient.

He felt more than heard Dean's laughter as the other man reached up to help him stuff his bag in, closing the door swiftly and locking it before he handed the key to Castiel. "Most of the girls that work here, they have lives outside this place, and boyfriends and husbands and kids and cars and a Mercedes in the driveway. They are careful here, but when they get home it's all bets off, and I can't blame them for that. They get covered and paid maternity leave, but sometimes they just don't come back." He shrugged, and Castiel had to concede the point – to be honest, he hadn't really thought of these people as the sort who were…human. Of course that's what overprotective parents will always say – bad body image, degradation of women and whatever; but that's kind of the point. It's fantasy.

Feeling a little ashamed for that train of thought, he shook himself out of it and looked over to Dean, who'd been watching him carefully. "I guess I have some papers to sign."

Dean smiled, the expression soft and lighting up his eyes. "Yeah. Listen, I have a shoot in, like," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes, so I'm gonna have to leave to go get ready, but if you have any questions I'm sure Bobby will be his usual helpful self, call you an 'idjit' and make sure you sign and check off the right things." He clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder, pulling the smaller man in for a chaste kiss.

Well, it was meant to be chaste. Castiel kind of didn't let him pull away; dug his teeth into Dean's bottom lip and kept him close with a sudden grip of his hands and his body, pinning Dean against the stack of lockers – honestly, the guy had reflexes like a fucking ninja. When Castiel was sure Dean couldn't run away from him he let go of the dirty bite and slid his tongue between Dean's lips, parted in surprise, grabbing himself a taste of his gorgeous lover to get him through the separation. After spending all of Monday night and Tuesday together Castiel had a strong sense that he was about to go through Dean-withdrawal, and that it would _suck. _

Eventually he had to pull away, frustrated at his need to breathe when Dean's lungs could supply no more air, and leaned his forehead against Dean's neck, inhaling the scent of him to keep with him. Dean's body shook with gentle laughter.

"I'll miss you too," he said against Castiel's hair, placing a kiss there and Castiel could feel the smile in his voice, against his skull, and reluctantly let Dean go, heading back to Bobby's office to officially join the workforce.

* * *

Dean left Castiel to sign the papers, heading over to Max, Ash and Andy who were currently working on beautifying Lilith – a true bitch if ever Dean met one, and there wasn't enough make-up in the world to cover the assassin's gleam of stark raving madness in her eyes or the cruel tip of her smile. If Dean had his way she'd have been out on her ass ages ago, but the viewers kept liking her and bringing her back until eventually she was hired full-time. She worked as a Domme alongside the likes of Crowley, usually with the (marginally prettier) Ruby as her sub. Dean hated Ruby too – the bitch had a stick so far up her ass Dean could break her neck and hear the snap of a branch, and she'd tried to get into Sam's pants one too many times. There wasn't anything inherently abhorrent about her…Dean just wanted her to choke on her own spit and die.

"Heya, Winchester," Andy said, grinning in that nervous sort of way Dean was sure sheep would have around wolves, if sheep could grin in a nervous sort of way. "Need a little touching up?"

"Just my back," Dean replied, gesturing behind him; "Alistair beat me pretty hard and I didn't get a chance to rest up. I'm pretty sure it still looks like I lost a fight with a combine harvester back there, and I've got a shoot in…pretty much now." He smiled sheepishly, knowing that Ash was about to give him shit for such short notice.

The mohawked internet-nerd party animal moved away from where he was doing Lilith's hair (do it yourself, lazy bitch) and pointedly ignoring her huff of 'Wait your turn'. (Again, it's just make-up, on _your face_, you can make yourself look like a whore without help, thank you.) "Alright," he said, a determined expression on his face as he went behind Dean, pulling off his shirt without preamble. There was a second of silence, then a low whistle. "Damn, Winchester."

"That bad, huh?"

"Did Alistair hurt you real good, Dean-o?" Lilith asked, preening, and Dean just flipped her the bird – _bitch._

"That depends on your view of macabre," Ash replied, ignoring Lilith again, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice before he shrugged. "Never mind, I can fix this easy, but you might be a little late."

"I'm sure they won't miss me," Dean replied with a grin, knowing that Starla was more than capable of entertaining herself and the cameras while they waited for his lazy late ass. "Just make sure you cover up the bruising – the cuts we can deal with in editing."

"You act like I haven't done this before. Now shut up and let me work."

For all his weird-ass taste in music and women, Ash was a magician when it came to getting rid of blemishes and scars from people for the camera. It took fifteen minutes, but by the time he was done you could barely tell Dean had been hurt at all – there was just a little dark patch of skin under his left shoulder blade that Ash couldn't quite get rid of without slathering huge amounts of cover-up on Dean, and Dean appreciated the decision – he _hated _the feeling of make-up, and after that one shoot with a bunch of people he still maintains are backup dancers to Lady Gaga (and we don't talk about that shoot, _ever_) he made the executive decision that he would go without any form of cover-up as long and as often as he could. Let the fucking editors sort it out because Dean was _not _down with that shit.

Anyway, long rant over…

He ended up being right on time for the shoot, as one of the camera guys had been late too, so they were just setting up as he got there. Starla smiled over at him from behind the see-through glass door that was a fire escape to the outside, puffing on her cigarette – _eww, gross_ – and he waved back, content to just recline against a wall until they were ready for him.

The floor was covered in a thick white carpet that Dean knew from experience was a lot softer than it looked – you could fuck someone all night on it and they wouldn't get a single burn, and it was great if you ended up being on your knees a lot. It was set up like an office, with a large desk facing away from a white wall that had an American flag on it, some degree and qualification certificates that Ash had probably forged and a picture of a smiling army general. The desk was huge and made of dark mahogany, with a stack of papers that would probably be pushed aside during the course of filming, and some pens and other stuff…Just enough to make it look like it could really be someone's workspace. There were grey walls on either side, and the fourth was collapsed to make room for the cameras.

Dean walked over to Chuck, who was talking to the late camera man and stopped when he approached; "Please, tell me someone here knows what they're doing," the small man said, eyes beseeching Dean to stop him losing the will to live.

_Drama Queen. _"Yeah, Starla's the boss' assistant and she comes in, I get pissed with her about some report and then sex, right?"

Chuck shook his head, taking one of his 'Deep calming breaths so that I don't smite the universe' moments. "No…no, they changed that. Starla's the boss now and she calls you in and then _she _gets pissed at _you _for some figures or finance report of something, and _then _the sex."

Dean raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side at Chuck, who sighed; "I know, but Zachariah said the viewers wanted it, so that's what they're getting. Sorry Dean," he smirked, "I guess you're going to be taking orders today."

_Fantastic. _His retort was cut off by Chuck's sudden 'All right people let's get started. Can someone get Starla, please? No – hey, no smoking in here! Can we get started now? Don't have all day. Alright, ready?' He turned in time to have a suit shoved in his face and rolled his eyes again, but relented and quickly changed – right in front of everyone, not like it mattered – into the loose, ill-fitting business suit. Ugh, blue is _so _not his color.

The cameras were in position; Starla was ready to go, looking just the right balance between sexy and smart, with glasses low on her nose and her blonde hair pulled up with a few ringlets falling around her face. A low-cut black top showed off cleavage, but not too much, and she wore a nice little pencil skirt and six-inch stiletto 'fuck me' heels to top it off.

Just because Dean leaned more towards men didn't mean he didn't appreciate a nice ass and pair of breasts when he saw them, and Starla took _really _good care of herself, even after having two kids.

Dean approached women differently than he did men. With men, it was easy to tell if they weren't having a good time, and over the years Dean had become more proficient in reading them than members of the opposite sex. With men it was more prep, more anticipation, a tighter grip that kept itself tight and solid flesh to grab onto, dig your nails into, bite and nip at. With a woman you had to be more careful – they were just so damn _dainty, _and Dean always felt like he would break them. Another reason he liked Starla so much was that she was a little more solid than the other girls, and he appreciated that.

She was also tight. Dean had no idea how women who hadn't had kids managed it, let alone those who had two – the vaginal muscles just weren't the same as those in the ass, and they loosened after a while, but Starla, no, she was something else. The time between walking on set and coming inside of her screaming body was a blur to Dean, but he vaguely felt the sensation of her inner walls contracting and shuddering around him, of fluid pouring out of her to soak through his suit pants (that were still pooled around his ankles as he bent her over that perfectly-sized desk) and sweat sticking them together as he stilled inside of her, filling the condom – the viewers had wanted 'real life', which usually included safe sex – with small shots of his load.

Maybe it was just him, but the experience hadn't been particularly enjoyable.

Okay, yeah – Starla was awesome, and sexy, and beautiful. One of those natural beauties too; she didn't have to tart herself up to make herself look good, and she pulled off pretty much anything they threw at her. She was tight and hot and made delicious little noises, and she faked her pleasure as well as an actual experience – although Dean prided himself on being able to tell when a girl was faking, and they'd _never _faked with him. So, he'd managed to get the job done, and do it well, and had gotten off from it – another day, another shoot. Fantastic.

After a whole day with Castiel, though, it wasn't as intense.

Dean liked that intensity. He felt a little…ripped off without it.

_I hope this doesn't get to be a problem. _

The camera crew were already clearing their stuff away, readying the room for another use, and Dean recognized the guy who had sat in when Castiel had come in to film. His name was Dan, a liberal arts major that had gone astray and ended up here – which was okay, no judgment here, folks. Dan was talking to one of his friends, Rick, overly-loudly, so it's not like Dean couldn't _not _overhear, as he changed into a fresh pair of jeans and underwear, pulling a t-shirt and then button-up on to cover his torso.

"…And I heard another sub quit today. They're having to make Doms take their place 'Downstairs'."

_Aww, fuck, _Dean thought to himself, picturing yet more shifts with Alistair, Crowley, Azazel and Lilith. He wouldn't mind except that Alistair really had it in for him since he refused to bottom for the man – wouldn't even let toys get shoved up his ass – and so Alistair just had to settle with hurting him and making him submit through begging and denied orgasm – which sucked as well, but not as much.

"Yeah, but there's a new guy coming in and I heard Zachariah saying that he'll definitely assign him 'Downstairs' after he finishes with the contracts."

Dean just had time to process this little piece of information, dread coiling like a leaden snake in his stomach, when Castiel himself walked into the room, looking for a moment like he owned the place. Confident and totally in control, which was weird and yet totally _right _on him, and it had Dean go from zero to hard in three seconds flat.

_Fuck._

"Hey," Castiel said, walking over to Dean as soon as he'd spotted him, a sly smirk on his face like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking and didn't mind encouraging him. "You all done in here?" And he threaded two of his fingers through Dean's belt loop, towards the front, and actually _pulled _Dean into his body. "I managed to catch the last few minutes," Castiel growled into his ear, so softly that Dean had to lean in to hear him better, which of course just meant he was practically on top of Castiel, feeling his heat and breath against his neck and ear – _Fuck. _"You seemed a little…distracted."

Dean smirked slightly; sliding his hands around Castiel's flanks to the smaller man's back, digging slightly at the dip of his spine. "Yeah," he replied, his voice honey over gravel, giving back as good as he got; "My mind was somewhere else. About yesterday, in fact, maybe around three in the afternoon."

Castiel's eyes fell closed – he remembered. It had been right after their midday nap from the morning sex, and before their long marathon of back-off-build-up teasing before the explosive 'climax', so to speak. Castiel had decided to wake Dean up from his nap with his mouth, tasting, licking at and exploring every inch of that gorgeous man's skin and getting Dean well and thoroughly growling, purring, _begging _for Castiel's mouth on his cock, and of course the older man had been all-too-willing to oblige. He could still feel the hard weight of Dean's cock in his mouth, the velvet-steel slide in and out and the way Dean had fucked him throat-deep, grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him to take it. _Fuck, _that had been hot.

He wasn't aware he was shaking and panting, lost in the mix of memory and fantasy, until someone cleared their throat very loudly and suddenly, right behind Castiel, making him jump. He turned, breaking away from Dean's hold – or trying to; Dean ended up just holding him from behind when Castiel's eyes found the man standing in front of him, an almost terrifying mask of carefree sadism on his face.

"Alistair." Dean's voice was a rumble that Castiel felt against his back.

_Ah, finally, a name to the face. _And what a reputation. Castiel had, admittedly, kind of conjured up this image of a fat greasy old man with a thick black moustache that he twirled as he laughed maniacally. The guy, in response to that, was kind of anticlimactic. He had little-to-no hair on his head, and patchy facial hair, like he couldn't decide between shaving it all off or letting it grow in. He was thin, unhealthily so, and he stood like you could run him over with a bulldozer and he'd just yawn and get back up, unharmed, like a cockroach. He reeked of blood and sweat in that way that makes one think of Concentration Camps and dungeons in fantasy books, and his clothes hung off his skeletal frame like they were made for someone twice his size.

All in all, not a very imposing image. But his _eyes…_

Well, they were creepy. Flat black iris with no change in color to define the pupil, and they were large, leaving very little white shown around the edges. They looked dead, unfocused and at the same time hawk-sharp, like with just his gaze he could cut down to your bone, and his smile told you that he would enjoy every beat of your heart as it pumped blood out of your body for his amusement.

This was a man who, if it was legal, would already have tortured several people to death – and possibly, had anyway. He had the smile of a psychopath and the eyes of your friendly neighborhood pedophile, and when he spoke it made you want to dunk yourself in lighter fluid, and he'd make you beg him to strike the match.

"Dean," Alistair replied, looking the young man up and down like he was the newest cut of meat on the market, and Castiel could feel Dean tense and shake behind him – he was legitimately afraid of this man. Alistair's eyes moved to him. "And this must be the new guy, Castiel."

"That's me," Castiel replied, refusing to let himself be cowed by this man when Dean himself was so obviously shaken. It was one thing to bow down, be one sheep against one wolf, but quite another when the wolf was outnumbered. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And I'm sure it's all absolutely awful," Alistair purred, grinning a madman's grin, all toothy and white and _so fucking wrong. _So creepy. "I have to say, given your contacts here, I was surprised when you decided to sign yourself up for my training."

Dean froze, eyes wide. _Wait…he _what?

"Oh, didn't Cas here tell you, Dean?" Alistair smiled, pulling Castiel away from Dean's arms by a death grip – surprisingly strong – around his wrist, and managed to somehow get his arm slung around Castiel's shoulders, the man only slightly taller than Castiel, but tall enough to pull the move off. "He's gonna be one of my _students. _I hope he does better than you – you were so…_promising." _Alistair sighed, like that was one of life's little failures and you couldn't let it get you down.

Dean's eyes were full of questions when he looked at Castiel, unable to quite find the words to ask why Castiel would do such a thing – to _willingly _sign up to train to be a Dom 'Downstairs'. Hadn't he listened to what Dean had said about Alistair? Didn't he know what this training would _entail? _

Alistair was still talking; "But, that's just one of those things, isn't it, Dean-o? Now, if you don't mind I'm going to have to steal this beautiful young thing from you." He leaned in conspiratorially, pulling Castiel with him, and Dean was _so _going to punch him soon. "I promise not to break him on his first day."

"Cas, why?"

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"So, so sorry," Alistair mocked, and yeah, Dean was _really _going to punch him if he didn't _shut his face. _"It's alright, Castiel." He leaned in, pulling Castiel by the neck until they were lips-to-ear, as Alistair began to walk out of the room, away from a still too-stunned-to-move Dean. "I know why you wanted to do it. You want to fuck Dean, don't you? Wanna get him all spread out and shaking and bloodied and then you want to fucking _own _him, like I get to, right?"

Castiel clenched his fists, but was unable to deny it. He merely looked down at the ground they were walking on, on the way to the rooms 'Downstairs'. "Well, don't get your hopes up. Guy's the worst kind of cock-tease for it but he'll never let you in, take it from me." Alistair pushed at Castiel, throwing him off balance, and the man stumbled to a stop in front of Alistair. He hadn't even noticed they were in a room now – could only tell by the sense of confinement and the padded flooring that suddenly appeared under his feet. "Now…" Castiel looked up, in time to see Alistair turn back to him, having grabbed something off the wall. It was a long black leather crop, like those used for riding, only the tip was sharper, somehow, meant to dig more than it was to sting.

"Strip."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Chapter Specific: Guys, this one's quite graphic and violent. There's a bit of dub-con, some really explicit violence and goriness. It sort of blindsided me. Sorry :/**

**Author's Note: ** **I'm so sorry about the wait! Really I am, but I've been home for maybe four days total this month from the 12****th****, so I haven't had much time to write. I churned this out the morning I was due to leave for the airport. Sorry it's so rushed.**

**I'm not happy with this chapter. At all. It has been a bad chapter. *smacks it on the nose* And it's SO unbeta'd. My bad for any mistakes (and there's probably loads).**

* * *

Alistair was…brutal.

Taunting. Evil.

"_Bet you can't wait to get him like this for you, eh Castiel?" And another blow from that fucking riding crop would come down whenever Castiel didn't give an answer Alistair liked. There was nothing about pleasure in this – it was just sadism, pure and simple. How Dean managed it Castiel would never know. _

"_Well, you won't," and then the bastard's oily voice was right next to his ear, his body covering Castiel's like an animal mounting its mate, and Castiel wanted to cringe away but to do so would just end in more pain, so he held strong, his arms shaking with the effort it took to hold up two bodies. "He'll never let you in. Not unless you really break him down. That's what you'll have to do, you know that right?" And he moved off of Castiel again, and the man felt like he could breathe again, before Alistair chose his next instrument and was back. The reprieves were few and short down here._

"_You'll have to open him up nice and slow. Have to be patient with him." Alistair's voice was lower, now, soft enough that Castiel had to strain to hear, but even then it was hard to with all the shouts of pain echoing along his body. He hadn't seen what Alistair grabbed, but it felt cold and spiky when three hot points of pain shot into his spine like needles, and Castiel almost collapsed from it – it hurt so much. "I have a feeling we're going to need to work on your patience most of all…"_

"Get the fuck away from me, Cas."

"No." Castiel had just managed to catch Dean on the way out of the locker rooms, after working a four hour session with Alistair. Dean had had to stay around and do another video – and with all the retakes and everything it had taken much longer than he'd wanted it to. So the younger man found himself face to face with his lover, whose eyes shone with a blazing determination to explain himself; a conversation Dean didn't want to have.

It was stupid, because Castiel was a grown man and fully capable of making all his own decisions, but Dean still felt betrayed. Castiel had _literally _jumped in bed with the enemy, with Dean's worst enemy, after Dean had told him how much he hated that man. He hadn't even tried to explain himself.

So Dean wouldn't let him.

"Did he fuck you?" he spat, feeling a mix of triumph and pain when Castiel flinched back from him, the hands that had been reaching out to hold him back now retreating, turning defensive. "Well, Cas_tiel? _Did he fuck you?"

"_Are you gonna be like him, Castiel? You gonna shut your legs for me like a goddamn virgin wall flower, blush and push me away? Hmm?" Castiel's on his back now, chained by his hands to the ground next to his head, his legs pushed up so he's bent in half, legs kept open with a spreader bar between his knees and one between his ankles. Another two pieces of chain connect the bar at his ankles to his arms, so he can't relax or let himself sag even a little, otherwise he'd break his wrists._

_Alistair's kneeling between his legs, rubbing along one of his thighs, and every time he dips slightly lower Castiel clenches; he's never had anyone other than Dean inside of him, and though he definitely doesn't want Alistair, he may have to for the sake of his training._

_So when Alistair lubes himself up and starts to push in, Castiel hesitates on his safe-word, and then lies back and says nothing._

The pause had stretched on long enough, and Dean figured he had his answer. He fell back against the lockers, his breath leaving him in a huge gust before raising his hands to his face, fingers digging into his eyes. He was so exhausted – this day was just catching up on him like a bitch. From a logical point of view, it was expected of Castiel – he was a _porn star _now and he would have multiple partners, even in one day.

But still…He felt Castiel's hand on his wrist and tried jerking away, but couldn't – Castiel's deceptive strength was showing through, and he held Dean in a bruising grip.

Castiel's eyes were cold, his voice powerful when he spoke next; "I did this for you, Dean." And that froze the younger man, unable to piece together just how this whole twisted _fuck-up _amounted to a sacrifice for _his _sake. "When I become a Dom, you won't have to work with Alistair anymore. You won't have to suffer under him."

And that, kind of understandably, just made Dean angry. "You sick bastard," he growled, finally managing to twist Castiel's hand away, and he stepped around him, trying to get away but Castiel was there, cornering him; there wasn't any escape. "You think I want you to become him?" He gestured towards the door, as though Alistair would just pop up when named, and there were several people peeking in, trying to look like they weren't listening to the lover's spat going on inside. "You think I _want _you to _hurt _me? Like I would prefer that? Castiel, the only thing that you're going to get out of this is the illusion of power."

There was a moment of stillness, Castiel staring Dean down, unblinkingly, his shoulders set tense, his lips a thin line, all-but glaring at Dean, until the Winchester put two and two together. He was shocked enough that he gasped, eyes widening, and stepped back again, his back connecting painfully with the hard metal of the lockers.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked, voice a whisper, and he tried to break Castiel's hypnotic gaze, but it just wasn't happening. "You _want _to be like him."

"So did you!" Castiel near-shouted in reply. "You wanted to be one of his students, Dean," he growled, shoving Dean back a little harder against the lockers and both of them hissed when the actions brought pain – Dean to his back, Castiel to his arms and shoulders. "But you failed. Why did you fail, hmm? What kept you back?"

_No. _He wasn't going to talk about this. But Castiel was relentless; so completely taunting. "Go on, Dean; was the final test one quick fuck? You couldn't do that, though, could you? Can't do it for anyone. Go on, what made you mess up so completely?"

"A friend!" Pressured, panicked, Dean blurted out the answer before he could think about taking it back. _Fuck. _Castiel stopped pushing at him, giving him a little bit of space as a reward, and Dean managed to just think in the back of his mind that Castiel would make a really good Dom, able to see how far to push and back off accordingly. "A…friend of mine." Dean slammed the back of his head against the lockers, eyes tightly shut – he couldn't meet Castiel's gaze while he said this. "She was barely legal to come in here, and she signed up as a sub when I was still training under Alistair. I was going to be assisting him with her and, after a few of our sessions, she became really popular. It was a couple of months after my father died, and…God, I was so angry. I took it out on her. I was so fucking lost in it I didn't catch when she safe-worded and I kept going until she was unconscious. She almost died because of me."

_He could still see her; blonde hair matted with sweat and blood from where Dean had completely ripped open her back. She was shaking and coughing up blood, and Dean could swear he was able to see a bit of her spinal column amidst the broken flesh._

_He could still remember the smell of blood and bile and urine, and the weak sound of her pleading for him to stop, when he came back to herself. Her safe-word echoed over and over again in his mind and he had to drop the flogger, unable to believe what he'd done._

_The ambulance had arrived just in time, and Dean had been bent over the toilet bowl from the moment he fled Alistair's room to the moment Sam came to find him and tell him that she was stable and would be alright._

_Alistair was still grinning when he'd left the suite to go home with Sam._

"That's not you now, though, Dean." Like flowing water Castiel's mood had shifted once again, crowding close to Dean in that way people do when they're trying to offer forgiveness and be forgiven at the same time. A 'Quid Pro Quo' sort of thing. Dean could feel the man's rough stubble against his neck and jaw as Castiel nuzzled into him, his hands wrapping around Dean's ribs. Castiel could feel Dean's racing heart and the stretch and pull of his muscles when he breathed in, then their release as he exhaled, and Castiel could feel Dean's warm breath by his ear. "What happened is tragic, but she's alright now, yes?"

"Yes." Dean's voice was raspy with tears.

"Then what are you still so afraid of?" Dean tensed, wanting to move away again – this was way too much soul-searching in one day – but Castiel held him firm, his hands becoming a cage once again that Dean honestly didn't want to break out from. He'd missed Castiel, even in the three hours since that abject feeling of betrayal, and the man just felt too damned good. And this was _so _going to be a problem – really, it was – but Dean honestly didn't want to hide his secrets anymore. Not from this guy who'd managed to so completely strip him down, even on their very first day.

Had it only been two weeks ago?

"Is it a control thing?" Dean's arms tightening around Castiel's shoulders, where he realized he'd been gripping him – whether to push Castiel away or pull him closer he had no idea – and buried his face in the other man's thick dark hair, finding comfort in the smell of him, and that was answer enough. Castiel almost laughed. "You're afraid to lose control, but you give it so willingly when you sub. Why is that?"

"The sub has all the power," Dean replied, voice muffled against Castiel's temple, and the older man wasn't imagining the shake to his voice or his lover's body. Dean was being so _good, _so responsive to his coaxing. "If a sub safe-words, the scene stops. Whatever the Dom wants is irrelevant."

"Would you trust me enough to do a scene with me, Dean? Would you trust me enough to top you, knowing that you can stop at any time? That control never leaves just because you bottom, Dean. It doesn't."

There's a huff of laughter, a derisive snort, and Castiel almost smiles, shaking his head in fondness. He pulled away from Dean, able to look the younger man in the eyes now, and held Dean's face between his hands. Dean's eyes were brighter than usual and red rimmed, like he'd recently stopped crying or been desperately trying not to. The dryness on his cheeks attested to the latter. "I'm serious, Dean," Castiel continued; "If, even during our first video, I had asked you to stop, you would have, wouldn't you?"

Dean swallowed, and then nodded. "I didn't want to hurt you, though," he replied, voice still low and raspy and with just a touch of bitterness, resentment darkening his eyes again as he remembered the reason he and Castiel were having this conversation in the first place.

"And I don't want to hurt you," Castiel replied, honestly, and perhaps the open sincerity in his eyes was the only thing to keep Dean rolling his. "I mean it, Dean. There are BDSM couples who truly enjoy what they do or have done to each other." He pressed closer again, a hand dragging down Dean's side to his hip, just curving around so his fingers dipped under the waist of Dean's jeans, digging a little into his ass. "Let me learn you."

Dean swallowed, looking so obviously like a prey animal wanting to run, but Castiel wouldn't let him run. Not until he had his answer.

"Under my terms?" Dean suddenly asked, jaw clenching slightly.

"Whatever you want," Castiel answered with a smile, drawing his hand away – giving him more space again as another reward for his good behavior. Like treating a head-shy horse; you keep putting pressure on it until it relaxes, then you can back off. Eventually it will trust you and never react negatively to someone going near its head. "I promise."

"I'll think about it," Dean finally said, relenting, and it took all of Castiel's self control not to whoop in triumph.

* * *

Though Dean had forgiven him easily enough, Sam did not.

If the open hostility radiating from the younger Winchester wasn't enough to clue him in, then the way Gabriel glared from Sam's lap at Castiel would have tipped him off easily enough. Castiel sighed, sitting in one of the chairs in Bobby's Office, across from where Sam and Gabriel were perched on the couch, and waited for the barrage to start.

"I hope you realize what you're doing."

Castiel blinked, not quite expecting the neutral statement to come out of Sam, given the threat he'd received not even earlier in that week – it was Thursday now, and Castiel had been training with Alistair every afternoon, after filming in the morning. It was hard work but it was so paying off, and Dean seemed a little more easy about the whole situation, even if he wasn't entirely happy about it.

Castiel hadn't invited Dean home that night and Dean hadn't asked or offered for him to come over. The Winchester wanted to think and Castiel was happy to give him his space, because he had a 'maybe', and everyone knows a 'maybe' will turn into a 'yes' given then right incentive.

"What do you mean?" he asked, wary – Sam had a notorious temper when it came to Dean, and Castiel was treading on thin ice here.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cas, I'm a sub and a Dom too. I know exactly what you're doing with Dean and I want you to know that, if you royally fuck it up, he's going to be so damaged that I might just have to kill you in revenge." He casually turned the page in his magazine, not meeting Castiel's eyes. "So just be careful with him."

Gabriel was still glaring, but Sam was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and that seemed like enough.

Still, when Dean approached him at the end of the day, asking Castiel to come home with him, Sam's words had stayed with him and he hesitated.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Dean," he said, closing the locker door quietly and turning to face his lover.

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, and Castiel didn't miss the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, which he was quick to put to rest.

"I mean I shouldn't be pushing you like this. You don't want to bottom for me. I should respect that." Castiel took a deep breath, his inner libido kicking the shit out of him for letting this opportunity go. "I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, Dean, and I don't want to make you do anything. You're not my sub; you're my lover and I want this to work."

Dean didn't say anything for a long moment, and then he took Castiel's hand in his own and started pulling him towards the door. He ignored Castiel's questions as he dragged the smaller man to the Impala, leaving him by the passenger door with a quickly muttered 'Get in', and was mildly surprised with Castiel did so without hesitance.

His knuckles were white along the steering wheel, jaw flexing and his heart was going a mile a minute, but Dean _wanted _to do this, damn it. He wanted Castiel to know that he _did _trust him – _though, really,_ a traitorous voice said inside him, _why should I _– and that he wanted this just as much as Castiel did.

Castiel stared out of the front of the Impala the entire drive to Dean's apartment – he did not want Uriel or Anna to deal with, thank you very much – and was silent as Dean cut the engine, leaning back against the headrest as he exhaled heavily, wanting to get a grip on himself. His cock was definitely on board with letting Castiel fuck him – it was his stupid brain and fear that was getting in the way.

_I'll just think of it as another night, _he thought to himself, determined. _It's just another night with Cas. And those nights are good nights (though I've had, like, two) and he's a good guy. He's alright. _You're _alright. _

Dean felt a warm hand slid into his on the bench seat, looking down to see Castiel's fingers interlacing with his, and then up to Castiel's face as he smiled. "You don't have to do this, Dean, I mean it. We don't have to do anything." And yeah, that kind of made Dean feel like a virginal girl on prom night, but it did still make him feel better, and he pulled Castiel across the seat and into his lap, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. He had barely touched Castiel since that _fucking _Tuesday, and it felt good to have the man in his arms again. Castiel's hands braced him on the top of the seat, either side of Dean's head, as he rocked his hips against Dean's, making both men gasp into each other.

Castiel sighed gently when Dean ran a hand through his hair, smiling against Dean's lips as their kiss deepened with a tilt of the head. _Just like he remembered, _Dean tasted so good and his lips were warm against Castiel's, reminding him just how good that mouth can be, and his body jolted at the (un)expected flare of desire racing down his aching spine.

His hand fumbled for the car door (because car sex was the kind of sex you regretted in the morning, with all the cleanup and the achy muscles) and almost fell out of the Impala, Dean laughing as he caught him and pulled him close. They managed to make it to the elevator with all their limbs, Dean practically punching the 'Up' button as he pinned Castiel against the elevator doors, kissing him like he was trying to devour him. They fell into the elevator when the doors open, knocking the breath out of Castiel while Dean lay laughing above him, feeling drunk on the feeling of _Cas. _They only began laughing harder when they looked up and noticed they weren't alone in the elevator – a very appalled looked business man and a disapproving woman with her sixteen year old daughter (who was looking very interested, by her expression) kept them company on the ride up. Luckily, they didn't have a long wait as Dean lived on the third floor, and quickly the younger man was pulling Castiel out by his wrist, still grinning with the weird drunk-high feeling of finally touching, kissing, _feeling _Castiel again.

Dean's apartment was nice; clean, the way only a semi-neat bachelor could keep it, with a few clothes scattered around and some unreplaced DVDs by the giant flatscreen and huge black leather couch (that was suspiciously like the one Castiel and Dean had first filmed on), and some unwashed dishes in the sink. The sort of things you take care of when it really builds up, in cycles every week or so.

Well, Castiel would have noticed this had Dean not immediately reclaimed his attention, practically slamming the older man back against his door as it shut, pushing at his clothes roughly in an attempt to get Castiel naked. His kisses turned rougher the more time went on and he was trying to grab and touch everywhere, to consume Castiel completely.

As soon as Castiel understood what was doing, he slowed things down dramatically; Dean was nervous, and trying to overcompensate for it by acting very 'Alpha Male', wanting to just attack the problem instead of take things slow. That wouldn't end well and would just end up hurting them both. So when Dean leaned in to take another bite at Castiel's lips, the older man grabbed his head and kept him there, not allowing Dean a taste until the younger man stopped biting, instead licking his mouth open. Castiel brushed his fingers through the hair on the side of Dean's head and, honest to God, Dean _purred _into his mouth.

That taken care of, Castiel ran his hands down Dean's arms to his frantic hands, lacing his fingers through those on Dean's right hand and letting Dean use it to pin him to the door, the back of Castiel's hand next to his head, and the other he directed to grab at his hip – a neutral grip that wouldn't hurt as much as grabbing softer flesh, and he pulled Dean closer to him, wrapping one leg around the back of Dean's, hooking at the calf and rocking his hips so he could feel practically every line in Dean's body, quivering with pent-up aggression and just _begging _for something to let it out on.

"Calm down, Dean," Castiel managed to gasp out when they broke away for air, instead whispering the words against Dean's jaw, and allowing it when Dean pushed his head away from such a vulnerable position, still very much in 'Alpha' mode. "No one's going to hurt you," he murmured, running his now-free hand down Dean's flank. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Dean _mewled_ against him, pulling him away from the door, then, with a quiet kind of desperation in his eyes, towards his bedroom. Castiel followed, his shirt half pulled off on his body, jeans slung low on his hips, half undone, and Dean pushed him onto his back on his bed.

Oh how the positions were reversed now, with Dean the shy virgin and Castiel the one guiding him through. Dean crawled over Castiel's body, trying to hide his nervousness in his proximity, but now the excitement and lust had begun to take over, and he was calmer with his movements now, stripping Castiel bare with practiced ease so the older man was naked beneath him.

Dean bent down, mouth at Castiel's collarbone, his hands dragging up Castiel's arm and placing it above his head. Then, there was a metallic 'snick', and Castiel looked up to see Dean sliding the other half of a pair of handcuffs through a gap in the headboard, and force his other hand through it so Castiel's hands were pinned above his head. He pulled, testing the strength of them, and his eyes widened when he realized they were the real deal. He looked to Dean questioningly.

"Just for the start," Dean said in explanation, eyes silently begging Castiel to understand him. "I can't…I'll let them go once I'm…ready."

And Castiel nodded, because honestly this was further than he'd expected to get with Dean so soon. His boy was being very good, even if he didn't realize it.

Dean was much slower in getting himself undressed than he had been stripping Castiel, every movement hesitant and careful, and Castiel watched his beautiful lover bare each bit of himself inch by inch until there was nothing separating them. Dean ran his hand down Castiel's chest, noticing how both of them seemed more bruised now, taking in each of the blows Castiel had been dealt that he could see – most of them were on his back, anyway. There was a large bruise covering the left side of Castiel's body, from his navel down to his hip that looked like someone had gripped him too hard…possibly Alistair. Dean swallowed back the jealousy he felt at that before he reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Will I need this?" he asked Castiel expectantly, knowing that all the employees had gotten their STI results back the previous day, and Castiel shook his head; he was clean. Dean seemed pleased with that answer and tossed the condom away, opening the bottle of lube.

He seemed to have shut down in an effort to not let his nerves get to him; his face was blank, hands steady as he poured lube over his fingers and Castiel's erection, coating it liberally with one hand as he reached behind himself to work himself up. His eyes were focused on his hand, not daring to meet Castiel's face, and Castiel just wanted to touch him – was afraid to move in case he startled Dean and pushed him away.

Carefully he shifted a leg so it rested against Dean's, and the younger man looked up, startled almost by the movement at all, and Castiel so much wanted to reassure him, wanted to tell him that he didn't have to, that it was okay, but the words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't. He just hoped Dean would understand what he was trying to say, but couldn't.

He seemed to. At least, he relaxed a little and even quirked a little smile at Castiel, then Dean's eyes closed as he pushed a second finger inside himself, searching for that one spot that would make all the pain of it go away.

Eventually he found it, that little bundle of nerves that sent his world sky-rocketing. He cried out at the unexpectedness of it, having never touched that spot inside himself before, and almost bent double of Castiel, panting harshly and surprised at how responsive his body was to it. He pressed again, and again, loving how his muscles instinctively relaxed and he could move more easily, and how now every nerve ending seemed to be lit from just this one little place. _Fuck, _he could come just like this.

_Fuck…_ Dean was so beautiful like that, losing that little bit of control of himself so easily. Castiel's cock twitched a little in Dean's hand, seeing his lover at a slave to his own fingers. Castiel would have to watch in more detail at a later time; make Dean pleasure himself while he watched, because that was fucking _hot. _Dean's eyes met his, lust-blown, black with passion, full lips red and parted, his breathing heavy as his body pushed back against his fingers, desperate for more, _deeper, _and he pushed a third finger inside, hissing at the burn, his cock now fully hard and leaking against his belly.

After a second of that epic staring match, Dean seemed to realize that this had all been leading up to a point. He gave Castiel's cock one sharp pull, twisting at the head with enough tightness to make Castiel's hips buck up into his hand, searching for more of that friction, before Dean was crouching over him, inches away from sliding home.

There was a moment of stillness, and for one heart-stopping second Castiel thought Dean was going to back out, but then the younger man stilled himself, one hand around the base of Castiel to guide him inside.

_Oh…_Oh! Tight heat, so fucking tight…Dean sank down slowly, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up as he sank down onto Castiel. Every inch or so he'd pause, hand clenching into a fist against Castiel's chest, where he'd braced himself for balance, before his body relaxed and he took another inch or so into him. Every second of it Castiel had to fight to surge up and just slam into Dean. This was on _his _terms, not Castiel's, and the older man would do everything in his power to make sure Dean enjoyed this, because this was _it. _The final little bit of Dean that Castiel had never been allowed to have – that _no one _had been allowed to have – until now. He wasn't going to regret it.

Finally – fucking finally – Dean sat down all the way, hips flush with Castiel's body, shaking and sweating, flushed from arousal. His head was bowed between his tense shoulders, one hand still on Castiel's heaving chest, the other digging into his own thigh. His inner muscles clenched around Castiel, testing the feel of him, and before he could stop himself Castiel rocked up, just that little bit deeper, and Dean cried out from the feeling as Castiel's cock brushed over his prostate.

"Fuck," he growled, the word more like a breath than actual language as he circled his hips slightly, testing the feeling of it again, and then he pushed himself up and sank back down.

"_God, _Dean." Castiel was _wrecked, _completely torn apart by the feeling of Dean surrounding him, his body trembling with the effort of not taking what he wanted, his wrists rubbed raw from trying to pull against the handcuffs, trying to _touch _Dean. "Fuck, Dean, let me touch you; _please."_

"Not yet," Dean replied, his voice more commanding now, and Castiel abruptly remembered that Dean had been a Dom, at once point. He knew exactly how to play someone and draw this thing out – knew how to get Castiel to _beg _to fuck him. This whole relationship was one epic mind game after another, and Castiel was oh-so-willing to play. "Not fucking yet."

Bracing himself on the bed this time, so as not to crush Castiel, he pushed himself up, slamming back down with more force onto Castiel's cock, making both men moan. "Fuck, Cas…" Again, and again, building up a rhythm that, honest to God, neither of them could keep up with, but that didn't stop them. Castiel moved his feet under him, lifting up his lower half to get deeper inside of Dean, changing the angle, and Dean almost collapsed on top of him at the continued stimulation of his prostate, over and over – relentless, just like every other part of Castiel.

They were slaves to each other, and when Dean finally reached forward and unhooked the handcuffs from around one of Castiel's wrists, the man wasted no time – he grabbed for Dean, almost violent with it, pulling the younger man down for a kiss that would have been savage were it not for all the love behind it, the fierce passion that neither of them really wanted to think about, as Castiel quickly took the lead in their sex, holding Dean still as he thrust up and pulled out, slowing their rhythm just a little, enough that Dean whined, and the thrusts turned more jarring, harder and deeper and slower, and every one pulled a different sound out of Dean, the younger man making the most delicious little noises against Castiel's mouth, jaw and neck, hands knotting in his thick black hair.

"God, Castiel, please…" Dean didn't know what he was begging for; didn't care. To stop, to keep going, to go faster? God, he didn't know; he just needed _something _and he knew Castiel could give it to him. "Please, Cas…"

It was only when Castiel rolled them over so that Dean was on his back, pulling the younger man's legs around his waist as Castiel truly fucked into him with abandon, that Dean realized what he'd needed. Fuck, it felt good – to be so completely owned and let go for Cas. It was hard – fuck was it hard – and he kept finding himself wanting to push Castiel away, and assert his dominance all over again, but he didn't, because this felt just as amazing, with Castiel surrounding him on all sides, that scent and that skin he loved so much completely encompassing him, and Dean lost himself to his orgasm with the first brush of Castiel's hand to his cock, coming with a shout that would wake the neighbors.

"Fuck, so beautiful, Dean," Castiel murmured against Dean's neck, slamming into him one last time before he felt his own release, warmth flooding him just as Dean felt himself being flooded, and Castiel rocked into him slowly, deeply, and…_Fuck, _that was hard. The hardest part was being held afterwards, like some tender thing, and Dean suddenly felt fragile, breakable.

He wanted to push Castiel away, but he wasn't having any of it; he pulled his trembling lover closer, held Dean as he muffled curses and tears against Castiel's chest, and pulled the soiled sheets over them. He'd never felt more content in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note (1): I've been a little unclear about the timelines, and I'm sorry. I've just been rereading the chapters and I've realized that this is all potentially happening a lot faster than I had intended it to. So I just wanted to straighten things out (I tend to have to do this a lot with my stories).**

**On a Thursday, Castiel goes into the studio and shoots with Dean. Two weeks from that Sunday he gets the video. Uriel and Anna catch him watching it and Anna calls her uncle (Michael) and gets Castiel fired. Michael then calls Gabriel on the Monday after that and Dean finds out Castiel is fired. He visits Castiel's house that night and they get together and spend all of Tuesday together too.**

**The Wednesday is when Castiel agrees to sub for Alistair, and the fight happens. Dean bottoms for Castiel a week from then on the Thursday, so about a month has passed since the boys first met. I hope that clears anything and everything out because it sure as hell did for me. Thanks for reading so far and it'll be wrapping up soon, so (:**

**Author's Note (2): This one kind of got away from me as well. Sorry. This actually turned WAY more angsty than I'd originally planned, but oh well.**

**Author's Note (3): Here there be angry, explicit, rushed, dirty sex! :D**

**Author's Note (4): I'm sorry for the song choice at the end of this chapter, but I dreamt it up about part four and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it and I like it, so if you don't then whatevs xD**

* * *

Dean fell asleep in Castiel's arms, the older man soothing him with gentle strokes of his hand through his hair, holding the younger man as Dean shook and tried to hold back tears – the only outlet for the intense emotions he was feeling. He hadn't meant to sob like a girl losing her virginity, but damn it that's how he felt. He felt like he'd been completely stripped bare and now Castiel could break him, use him, and Dean couldn't fight the knowing feeling that maybe, just maybe, Castiel might.

It was ten when Dean finally went to sleep, and he blinked awake again at two thirty-seven in the morning. Castiel hadn't loosened his hold one bit, and Dean found himself curled against Castiel's side, his head resting on the other man's rhythmically rising and falling chest and his arm thrown around Castiel's waist, their legs tangled together. Briefly he contemplated just going back to sleep, but there was dried salt on his face and it was unpleasant, so he reluctantly untangled himself from the warm welcoming bed and managed to pad over to his bathroom, flicking on the light.

Did he look any different? He felt different. He couldn't describe it, but something incredible had happened last night and Dean was honestly afraid of what that might mean. His ass was sore, and he walked a little awkwardly, and when he looked in the mirror his eyes seemed darker, his face red with streaks of white crusting on his cheeks. He washed off the tear tracts until it was like they'd never been there, and even spared a thought for the come stains on his stomach and between his legs, wiping cursorily there too until he felt slightly cleaner.

Not to say he thought of himself as dirty. No, it was a more complicated feeling than that. Just…owned. That was it. He was Castiel's, now, just as Castiel had belonged to him, and Dean had never really been in that position before, and it was scary and new and he wasn't sure he liked it.

When he managed to get back to his bed Castiel was awake, his arms open for Dean and the younger man climbed right in, because unsure or not he liked the feeling of Castiel's arms wrapped around him, and he settled on his side with his back against Castiel's chest, a mirror of their first night together, and Castiel's hand found a place on his stomach, both of them still naked as he pressed against Dean, pulling Dean back, closer to him.

"Tell me what you're thinking." The Winchester shivered, because he felt exposed, then, and Castiel's voice always affected him in ways he couldn't hide. He pulled a bed sheet back up around them because it made him feel less naked; less exposed, and closed his eyes when he felt the stubble of Castiel's jaw brush against the back of his neck.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, because he really didn't, and it scared him. His hand covered Castiel's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing, taking in a shaky breath and letting it out again. "I don't know what I'm thinking, or feeling. What are you thinking?"

Castiel chuckled, and Dean could feel the vibrations of it along his back and it felt nice, Castiel so warm behind him, his body pliant but firm and welcoming. "I'm thinking…about tomorrow," he said, and Dean tensed.

"What about tomorrow?" he asked, half-afraid to know the answer, for there was only one thing his mind could come up with.

"Tomorrow you go 'Downstairs'," Castiel replied, and Dean's breath leaves him because yes, he was right. Dean still felt like it's a touchy subject, one he never wanted to talk about and avoid like the elephant in the room, but Castiel just _had _to bring it up. Castiel sensed Dean's sudden tension and pulled him closer, if it were possible. "I want to watch," he rasped in Dean's ear, unable to stop his body's reaction to the thought of being able to watch a session between Dean and Alistair, able to see everything that Dean wanted to keep hidden.

When Dean replied his tone was reluctant, a little suspicious as though he was waiting for the punch line; "Watch? Why?"

"Because," and at this Castiel's hand curled a little, nails digging just a little into Dean's abdomen, and the younger man hissed slightly and tried to shy away from the painful touch, but Castiel's chest made it impossible, and Castiel's other hand slid under Dean's head and around to splay over his heart, "I want to. I want to see it and know that the bastard can do everything he wants, but he'll never get what you gave me so willingly." He softened, then, relaxing his grip and soothing the reddened skin with his thumb, his lips trailing along Dean's suddenly racing pulse in his neck. "And I want to be able to watch him think you're his and know that you're _mine." _

It said a lot that Dean didn't protest such a possessive declaration; he fisted the hand that had been over Castiel's in the bed sheets by his head, his body turning away as though he was trying to pull himself free, and Castiel was forced to follow him, pin him down with his weight so Dean couldn't escape. The younger man might have been struggling, but Castiel couldn't tell because he was well aware that in this position he could just take Dean as he wanted, and Dean was still probably loose and open from what they had done not hours before and he'd be able to just slide right in without a –

"Damn it, Cas! Get off me!" Dean's near-panicked voice broke through his thoughts, and the Winchester reared up and managed to throw him off, scrambling so he stood with his back to the wall on the other side of the bed, Castiel still laying slightly stunned in the middle of it. "I'm not your fucking plaything, you got that? You can't just…" He trailed off, exhaling loudly as he rubbed a hand over his face, and Castiel had the fleeting thought that he might have just fucked up here.

Dean took another deep breath, and Castiel held still, because this was crucial, right here. He had to tread carefully around the cornered animal that Dean Winchester was. Dean stabbed a finger at him once he'd recovered enough so he wasn't panting anymore, and could speak normally; "I'm not a fucking chew toy for you and Alistair to fight over, you got it? I'm not your whore, I'm not your toy and I'm certainly not _yours." _And he _wasn't, _damn it; Dean Winchester didn't belong to _anybody. _"And you have no right, _no fucking right, _to just take what you want from me. You have to _ask, _Cas, you can't…I can't…"

The younger man sounded close to tears, obviously trying to get a hold of himself, and his hand was trembling in the air where it was still pointed accusingly at Castiel.

"You're right, Dean, you're right. I'm sorry," Castiel replied, immediately, as soon as Dean trailed off, kneeling up in the middle of the bed. "I'm sorry – I know you're not just some toy." Dean lowered his arm, watching Castiel like he desperately wanted to believe him, but couldn't bring himself to. "I'm so, so sorry; I assumed."

"You assumed wrong." Dean's voice was cold, colder than Michael's when Castiel had been fired from his job for being with this man, this man who honest to God he was _hooked _on, and would _not _give up without a fight, damn it.

Castiel broke eye contact, then, hanging his head as he settled back, kneeling lower. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't want another fucking apology," Dean growled, but his voice seemed to have warmed and softened, and Castiel let himself relax, just a little. "God, Cas, you drive me so fucking crazy." And then suddenly Castiel has an arm- and lapful of Winchester. A Winchester who kissed him like he was trying to devour him, and whose hands clawed with a ferocity that Castiel remembered from the night before, when Dean was so honestly freaked out that he was willing to just attack the problem instead of slowly taking it.

Castiel remembered thinking that attacking the problem would just hurt them. But maybe, right now, it could heal them both.

So when Dean pushed him onto his back, Castiel didn't say anything, and he quieted his pained sounds when Dean bit through his lip, lapping at the blood like a kitten at milk, one hand knotted in his hair to keep him still, the other dragging his nails down Castiel's chest, over one of his nipples to curve around his ribs tight enough that expanding them was hard. Dean's fingers dug into the softer flesh between his bones, swallowing Castiel's whine, and raising himself onto his knees so that Castiel's body could arch for him, between his legs, and Castiel's hands dug into Dean's thighs, hard enough to hurt as well, and the Winchester _snarled _at him, breaking away from the kiss just long enough for Castiel to see blood on his chin before he was moving lower.

Dean's teeth sank into the side of Castiel's neck, his hand moving from his ribs to his throat and pressing down, cutting off the air just enough that Castiel had to fight for breath, and _fuck, _this shouldn't be turning him on. This _shouldn't _be hot, because Dean feels and sounds like he's going to kill him, but Castiel loves every fucking second of it because it's _Dean, _and this is _helping him. _

There was the sound of a bottle opening before Dean threw it to the side, having poured lube over his fingers one-handed, the other hand still curled around Castiel's throat, and then Castiel gasped, arching up again as Dean rammed two fingers into him with no preamble, and _fuck, _this is going to _hurt, _but that was alright because it was also _such _a Goddamn turn-on, knowing that Dean could hold him down like this, give just as good as he got, and all Castiel could feel was Dean's fingers stretching him open, rougher than he usually was but _so good _for it, and Dean's fingers around his throat, squeezing every time Castiel gasped and cutting off his air for a split second.

Dean got him damn good and ready in record time, no thought spared for Castiel's pleasure because the bastard was probably getting off on this anyway, and this wasn't about _Castiel. _This was _Dean _making a _point, _and so what if he can't quite remember what it was?

The rest of the lube he put on his cock, slicking himself up as he finally removed his hand from Castiel's throat, letting the other man breathe, as he spread Castiel's legs and hooked them up over his shoulders. His fingers found a handhold around the man's thighs and he pushed in, enveloped in that tight heat that he craved all the time, and now he knew what it felt like from the other end – that delicious, terrifying burn of someone knowing the most intimate part of you – and fire flared up inside his body. He bent over Castiel, forcing the man almost in half – though it seemed Castiel was flexible enough not to mind – as he fucked into him, one hand next to Castiel's head for balance and that leg fell, giving Castiel enough room to lunge up for another round between their mouths, teeth and tongues. Dean fought well but his mind was elsewhere, and Castiel dominated the kiss with ease, his fingers tightly curled around Dean's skull so the Winchester couldn't pull away. As incentive he slammed into the older man, but all Castiel did was moan into his mouth and clutch tighter, moving his hips as much as he could – which was hardly anything at all – to get Dean to go deeper, harder.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean growled once his lips were free, both of them needing desperately to breathe as he forsook the other leg, letting it fall over his own as he cupped the side of Castiel's neck with his non-supporting hand, thumb pressing into the hollow at one side of Castiel's Adam's apple, as he bit on the other; "Drive me so fucking crazy, Cas…" He was cut off when Castiel clenched around him, panting to try and regain some control; "Hate you, God, hate you so fucking much…"

"I know, Dean, I know," Castiel replied, pulling Dean with him when he lay back down, and Dean stretched out above him, Castiel planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting his hips up, so it was so much more of a mutual dance than it had been before. Dean _whined_ against him, desperate to come inside of Castiel, to just let go as he always must to be able to release, and with several more brutal, ravenous thrusts into Castiel's willing body Dean stilled, flooding the older man with a low groan, muffled against the bloodied skin of Castiel's lips.

"_Fuck,_" he growled, yanking out before he was fully soft, and bit at Castiel again, his hands finding the older man's and pushing them above his head. "Don't fucking move them," he said, before Dean reared back again, moving so that Castiel could roll onto his stomach. Immediately Dean spread Castiel's legs, lowering his mouth to Castiel's abused hole, his tongue flat and wet against the opening. Castiel gasped when Dean shoved his tongue inside him, his lips forming a seal around his hole as Dean began to suck, his tongue keeping Castiel's ass open enough to get at his own come, nails digging into Castiel's hips to stop him bucking.

Dean moaned at the taste of himself, surrounded by Castiel's scent and taste as his lover lay writhing underneath him, and his cock twitched valiantly in an attempt to rise again, but that wasn't Dean's game now. He sucked and licked at Castiel's hole, getting as much of his come as he could out of the shaking, moaning man before he twisted Castiel over again.

The other man was still hard, his cock flushed and swollen and just begging for attention. Dean kept the come in his mouth, gripping Castiel around the base to ensure he didn't come before Dean took him all the way in, slicking Castiel with his own come, and as soon as the older man realized what Dean was doing he practically howled, head thrown back as Dean's talented mouth went to work, thoroughly wetting Castiel down, head bobbing frantically as he drove Castiel closer and closer to coming.

_Just _as Castiel thought he might either come or lose his mind, Dean pulled off. He fucking. Pulled. Off, and Castiel had to fight the urge to growl at the younger man, before Dean pulled him up again by his shoulders so Castiel's sitting, and Dean straddled his lap, arms caging the older man in a relentless, crushing grip.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Dean snapped, his eyes lust- and anger-black and his words a guttural snarl. "To have me. Fucking _take it, _Castiel." And he slid down, because Castiel's still about two minutes behind him and Dean wouldn't wait for him to catch up, and before Castiel even knew what was happening Dean was taking him in, and Castiel was right – Dean was still loose and wet and Castiel slid in with barely a hitch.

"Come on, _move, _damn you." Dean was impatient; his words muffled against Castiel's shoulder as the older man made a desperate grab for his hips, lifting Dean up and back down in a rhythm that was so base and instinctive that it gave his frazzled brain a few minutes to catch up. Dean whined again – a high-pitched, desperate sound – when Castiel's cock brushed his prostate in one smooth, prolonged stroke, and Castiel slowed his rhythm down. Much to Dean's displeasure, as the younger man growled and clawed at him, clenching and trying so desperately to get him to move, but Castiel could feel wetness on his shoulder and it wasn't from sweat, and he had to remedy this situation quickly before they both shattered.

In a move that really he was too weak-looking to be able to carry out, Castiel pushed up on his knees, holding Dean in front of him, and then laid the Winchester down on the only corner of the bed they hadn't soiled yet, where the bed sheets were all bunched up and soft under his fingertips. Dean shuddered at the feeling when Castiel's hands turned gentle, unbearably so, like he was holding and handling something precious in his arms, and Dean didn't _want this_, damn it, not after how roughly he'd just treated Castiel, but the older man was patient and soft about it, driving into Dean in such a way that it _wasn't _fucking, it was _having sex, _and was dangerously close to _making love. _Dean grabbed at Castiel's shoulders, a soft sob leaving him when Castiel brushed his hand along Dean's cock, which had hardened once again, and Castiel's not relentless this time. His cock barely brushed against Dean's prostate – maybe every third or fourth stroke – and every stroke was a smooth slide in and out. There was no harsh brutality about it, or a dominant claim. It was tender and caring and so out of place that Dean didn't know what to do with himself.

Dean wasn't aware he was speaking until he heard Castiel gasp and shake above him, and he realized he'd told the other man he loved him. It was so the wrong time, and the wrong place, and should have probably involved a much happier situation – not with both of them bloody and sweating and Dean with tears running down his face – but Dean's anything but orthodox, and he knows it's true when he said it. Despite the fact that they've known each other _a month, _Dean loves Castiel.

Castiel curled over Dean, then, their lips meeting in a gentle slide as Castiel took Dean's cock into his hand in earnest, and Dean didn't have time to think about the fact that Castiel hadn't said it back before he was awash in pleasure again. He arched and moaned, baring his throat and Castiel grabbed onto his shoulder in a bruising grip with his free hand.

"So beautiful, Dean, _fuck, _you have no idea." Castiel's voice shook, and Dean knew he was close. They both were. "Love you so much, Dean, _fuck, _come for me. Now, right now!" And Dean was helpless because it was _Castiel, _and he's so gone to that man now… Dean arched and came, his muscles locking around Castiel, forcing the orgasm from the older man who cried out his release, suspended in midair for a long moment before they both collapsed, Castiel knocking the wind out of Dean who was gasping and panting for breath, both of them shaking and sated for the moment.

That feeling was gone. The intense must-have-you-now-or-_die _that Castiel always felt with his relationships, like he wanted to just crawl inside them and live there forever, was faded. Background noise – ignorable, and he let out a breath of relief. Replacing it was a warmth he'd never felt before, a satisfaction and connection with the other man that he'd never had the pleasure of experiencing, and he didn't have to look to see Dean's smile to know Dean felt it too.

Dean didn't want Castiel to pull out. When the older man tried, Dean whined and kept him in with his legs and arms. Castiel fixed him with a look, half-amused and half-loving.

"You'll regret it in the morning," he warned, voice lower than Dean had ever heard it, and the Winchester shivers lightly, because what just happened between them…it was the kind of peace of mind no amount of therapy could get rid of. Yeah, they still had issues and stuff, but it felt like…it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from them. It's a stupid thing to think, logically, but it did, and Dean's mind was slightly more at ease, now, and he was ready to go back to sleep and greet the new day with his lover by his side.

It had been two thirty-seven when Dean woke up that Friday morning. He went to sleep at four oh-nine and Castiel joined not long after, and neither of them stirred until Dean's radio blared loud and early at seven thirty.

* * *

"Are you feeling alright?" Castiel asked, frowning in concern, because Dean looked a little worse for wear. Of course, he'd gotten, like, five hours' sleep last night and between that time he'd looked warn out, and he looked like he'd gotten into a fight with an enraged horse, but there was something _else, _and it had Castiel worried.

But Dean's smile was light and a little exasperated as he fixed himself some coffee, raising it to his lips despite the fact that it must be scalding hot, still. Castiel's eyes were drawn to the hand-shaped bruise on Dean's shoulder, left there from last night. Castiel hadn't even realized he'd dealt it until their clean-up that morning, and Dean had hissed when trying to raise the showerhead higher. It was a perfect replica of Castiel's hand, splayed out along the top of Dean's bicep, and although it actually gave Castiel this warm tingly feeling to look at it, that might be hard to explain on the cameras.

"I'm feeling fine, Cas," and he was. Dean actually felt…pretty damn good. He actually had the embarrassing urge to skip, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon so… "Are you feeling okay?" Because Dean might have the more…showy wounds, but he'd done a number on Castiel too. The older man's throat was red and slightly swollen where Dean had bitten him, and his lip was still healing and there were a few bruises and marks along his torso that Dean thinks could land him in a domestic abuse courtroom, but the other man seems fine too.

They're both fine. They're okay. They'll get through this.

"I'm feeling good," Castiel replied, smiling as he stepped closer to Dean, nuzzling into the side of Dean's neck as he did so, his hands carefully extracting the coffee and setting it aside to avoid any embarrassing spills. "Actually, I'm feeling pretty fucking fantastic." And Dean chuckled at that, because Castiel never swears outside of the bedroom, and it's kind of weird to hear. "I love you."

Dean's heart did that weird flutter-stop thing that he's already beginning to associate with Castiel and the relationship they have, and his smile was as big as the world as he replied; "I love you too."

There you go. Out in broad daylight, they said it to each other, and it felt pretty damn good. Dean smiled, cupping Castiel's face with his hands and pulled him close, resting their foreheads together before he kissed him – lightly, chastely, mindful of Castiel's lip. Castiel whimpered against Dean, but not in pain, as he pulled the younger man closer, wanting to deepen their kiss but Dean would have none of it, and pulled away. "Come on, Cas, time to get ready for work," he murmured, but made no move to let the other man go.

Castiel rolled his eyes, sighing in that long-suffering way people do, but his eyes were light and his smile was playful. "Work. Must we?"

Dean chuckled; "Yes." He kissed Castiel again, thumbs brushing over the older man's cheekbones. "And…" Dean looked down, a soft blush coming onto his face – ah, so it's the quiet Dean today – before his grass-green eyes met Castiel's blue again. "You can watch me. Downstairs. If you really want to. I don't mind the idea so much anymore." And he kissed Castiel one more time before letting him go, and Castiel suddenly decided that yes, today was going to be a fantastic day all-round.

* * *

When they got to the suite, though, things didn't go quite according to that plan.

Alistair wasn't in that day. His father had been taken off life support and he'd had to fly to Los Angeles to discuss matters of the will (because apparently charity was _not _the acceptable option here) and he'd only called in that morning to tell Chuck and Zachariah. That left kind of a…gap.

"He was meant to do three videos today. What the hell? We just tell people to go home?" Chuck griped, frowning as he looked through various scripts that _someone_ (*cough* Max *cough*) had forgotten to bring down to the group of rooms selected for role plays, and threw them at some unwitting assistant to take care of before looking over at Dean and Castiel as they walked in. He raised his eyebrows at them. "Troubles, boys?"

"Nah, Chuck, just the same," Dean replied, smiling slightly. He looked around at the frenzied people. "So…what's going on?"

"Alistair's not coming in today. Azazel called in sick last night because of some damned new laundry soap or something gay like that, and they were meant to do four videos between them! There's nothing for the subs to do except…"

"Go home?" Dean asked, a little hopefully and Castiel couldn't help but grin at his lover, seeing a little bit of the younger Dean right there.

Chuck shrugged, rubbing another hand over his permanently-tired face, and sighed into his palm. "You know what? Yeah, just go home. Take a long weekend or something. I can't deal with you right now. I can't work under these conditions! Becky, where the hell is my coffee! I ordered it ten minutes ago!" And Chuck disappeared in a blaze of startled and confused assistants and camera men.

Dean grinned, tugging at Castiel's hand – though it wasn't full-on hand holding, Dean had one finger curled around Castiel's middle and third finger and that would have to do – and leaning in conspiratorially. "That's as good a chance as any. Let's go before he changes his mind."

On the way out the door they met up with Sam and Gabriel. The Winchesters grinned at each other and Dean cocked his head out the door, looking between his little brother and Gabriel; "Bar?"

"It's only morning, Dean," Sam replied, disapproving.

Dean shrugged. "Fine. Late breakfast, then bar?" he asked, hopping on the balls of his feet and honestly, if he gets any more excited he'll start regressing fifteen years, then spontaneously combust. At Sam's dark look he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sammy, it's five o'clock somewhere."

"A man after my own heart," Gabriel said empathically, snaking a hand around Sam's waist. "Let's go, Winchester, you're driving."

Castiel didn't get much say in the matter, but then again, it's hanging out with Dean and anything involving Dean can only be a good thing.

* * *

They ended up at a local diner called 'Reeno's', which claimed to have the best pizza in the tri-state area, but Castiel was dubious because, though he wasn't much of a pizza eater anyway, the greasy, thin bits of 'food' he saw people eating didn't look particularly appetizing as food or anything else, for that matter. He ended up ordering a cheeseburger with fries while Sam munched on his 'rabbit food' – also known as a Cobb salad – and Gabriel and Dean split a meat lover's.

They were about ten minutes in – laughing and talking and sharing old jokes and stories about the younger years – when Gabriel's phone went off. He stopped mid story about how he'd hazed this guy in college by making him think he'd been abducted by aliens, apologized and fished out his phone, eyes widening at whatever message he saw there.

"Oh my Vishnu…"

"What?" Sam asked, trying to peer over Gabriel's shoulder to look at the screen.

"Crowley just texted me this link to a news site…it says my brother was just arrested for…" There was a pause as he scrolled down, then his eyes widened even further, if possible. "Hiring an underage rent boy? What the hell?"

"What the hell?" Dean and Castiel said at the same time.

"Yeah…yeah it says that he was caught with some rent boy by hotel staff…and although the thing was perfectly legal apparently the kid was only sixteen…Fuck…" Gabriel started laughing, his shoulders shaking so hard as he tried to hold it in, because Gabriel is, at heart, a prankster and likes his 'Just Desserts' and this seems like the perfect little thing for his brother to be caught in. "Oh my God, the famous Michael Santos likes to fuck men!"

"It's not that funny, Gabriel," Sam said, frowning slightly as he took the phone from Gabriel's hands, looking through the article. "What about the kid? What's it say about him?"

"Um…" Gabriel frowned as he remembered; "Said it was Adam Milligan, or something, and apparently this isn't the first time Michael's been 'suspected' in 'underground rings' or whatever shit the media says. Fact of the matter is I _know _he fucked our brother that one Thanksgiving, right before Luci skipped out for good, and he's such a fucking hypocrite I can't even believe." He pointed at the phone. "Well there you go. Rot in jail, bitch."

"Gabriel!" Sam said, shocked at his lover's callous opinion of his brother, and that declaration that he'd never heard about before – _incest? _Of course, Dean and Sam had done a little co-filming of their own but that had only gone as far as hand jobs. Nothing…_exchanged _or anything like that.

Dean winced a little, but this was one conversation he wasn't touching with a ten foot pole, so he returned to his slice of pizza while Gabriel and Sam stared each other down, before they seemed to finally come to an agreement (to either talk about it later or to let it go) and returned to their food, and it wasn't long before the banter started up again.

Between pieces of pie, pieces of pizza, and many beers and sodas flowing to their table, the four managed to while away most of the day. Castiel feels by the end of it that he's known the four of them all their lives.

"So you wanted to be an actor?" he asked Dean at one point, catching his lover's attention while Gabriel busies himself licking some stray ranch dressing off Sam's lip. At Dean's nod he continued; "Why didn't you?"

Dean shrugged. "I didn't really have the connections, or the drive, I think. Besides, this is just another kind of movie role, and honestly, it pays better and it's a lot more stable." He winked at Castiel, who blushed slightly despite himself. "And when Zachariah kicks it, the company's going to be mine, apparently, so I'm not worried one bit."

When the clock struck seven – and they had only recently moved from that diner an hour ago to go walking around the town during rush hour, entertaining themselves like teenagers by generally acting stupid in the parks and enjoying the out-of-season warmth – Gabriel finally turned to Sam. "Can we go to the bars _now, _Sammy, please?" he asked, bringing out the full-on puppy-dog eyes as he pouted, leaning up against Sam and wow – Castiel only just noticed how much of a height difference there was between them. It's hard to tell when Gabriel's always in Sam's lap or when they're sitting down.

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes, rolling them again on seeing his brother wearing the same expression. "Fine. Where to?"

"'The Roadhouse'?" Dean suggested, looking to Sam, Gabriel, and finally to Castiel for approval. Castiel had no idea what 'The Roadhouse' was, but figured it was a frequent haunt by the smiles on Sam and Gabriel's faces. So he nodded and smiled and said anything was fine with him, because honestly he couldn't want to see what his Dean was like in a bar scene.

Dean was…surprising.

'The Roadhouse', as it turns out, was a bar/club that was purely for those who swung both ways. Castiel could see men and men, women and women and every mixture in between on the dance floor, in the booths, getting to know each other or laughing or drinking and just generally enjoying themselves. Dean found them a booth right in the back corner – the kind of place that is darkened specifically for molesting people without others seeing – and smiled when Sam left to go get drinks.

"What will you have?" Sam asked Castiel, leaning over the table so he would be able to hear him over the music.

"Whatever Dean's having," Castiel replied, because he was kind of a shot guy himself and could kind of drink anything they threw at him – his weeks without Dean, partying, had kind of led to that. Sam nodded, smiled in a secret way at Dean and left, disappearing in the mass of writhing bodies. "How do you know this place?" Castiel asked once he was gone.

"The woman who owns it, Ellen, was real close to my Dad and Bobby. I think they had a thing going on," Dean said, grinning suggestively.

"Who, the three of you?"

"No!" Dean shouted, surprised but grinning at the hilarity of such an idea – the three would have torn each other apart. "Bobby and Ellen. I think they had or have a thing but I value my own hide enough to not ask." He grinned as Sam returned with the drinks, shoving two purple drinks in shot glasses towards Dean and Castiel, who catch them in unison. He slides a rum and coke over to Gabriel and has a beer for himself, starting small because Sam is a ridiculous lightweight for his size.

"Here's to unsettled wills," Dean said, raising his glass, and there's a muffled 'Hear, hear!' before Castiel downed his shot, gasping at the weird sweet-orange-tang of whatever it was that Sam gave him, and he kind of liked it until the coconut aftertaste happened. He grimaced slightly at that – he had never been a fan of Malibu rum, and could detect the taste of it now that the orangeyness was gone. Dean grinned at him before downing his own shot, then leaned over and kissed Castiel – deeply this time, and Castiel can taste that sweetness on Dean's tongue that he liked before the Malibu took over, and he smiled against Dean's lips, leaning into the younger man for more of that drink.

"Purple nurples, man; nothing like 'em," Dean managed to gasp out when Castiel broke away, letting him breath, and Castiel's retort was cut off when the song changed abruptly, leaving a half-second of silence on the floor…

_Come on, rude boy, boy, can you get it up?  
Come on, rude boy, boy, is you big enough?_

Gabriel laughed at the song choice, fixing Sam with an appraising look, and the younger Winchester grinned at the challenge that is was and shifted out of the booth, letting Gabriel free and they both slipped onto the dance floor, which suddenly seemed a lot more crowded as couples (and threes) ground out along with the beat of it.

Castiel had to admit, it seemed the perfect rhythm for sex.

"Dance with me?" And holy fuck Dean was _right by his ear, _suddenly, and Castiel can smell the liquor on his breath and he shivered, flashing his eyes over at Dean before he smiled and nodded, letting Dean pull him out of the booth and onto the dance floor, a few feet away from where Sam and Gabriel were locked together.

_Tonight I'ma let you do your thing, yeah_.  
_Tonight I'ma let you be a rider.  
Giddyup, giddyup, giddyup, babe._

Dean has Castiel in his arms, now, the older man's back to his chest and there's the perfect amount of give to his knees to grind up against Castiel, the man fitting perfectly against him and the friction feeling fantastic against his jean-clad cock. He snakes a hand down, smoothing his palm along Castiel's thigh, so close to where he knows Castiel wants him to touch but he won't – not yet, not fucking yet.

Castiel whines, reaching a hand back to fist in Dean's hair as he allows himself to be moved and manhandled, a slave to the beat of the song and Dean's slow, methodical grind against him, but he's pushing back against the younger man and his hand finds purchase in Dean's hair, and he turns his head and Dean's there to meet him for a kiss.

_Tonight I'ma turn your body out._  
_Relax; let me do it how I wanna.  
If you got it, I need it, and I'ma put it down._

Dean's other hand is around Castiel's waist, holding him steady as they kiss until Dean suddenly finds himself with his back against a wall, and he's not sure how that happened but Castiel is ready to turn in his arms and take control so he figures the sneaky bastard must have planned it. He's grinning against Castiel's mouth, his hands wandering shamelessly even though they're in plain sight and so easy to spot. He knows from experience that no one will mind – some might even watch and enjoy the show.

_Buckle up; I'ma give it to you stronger.  
Hands up; we can go a little longer.  
Tonight I'ma get a little crazy -  
Get a little crazy, baby._

There's a heavy bass beat in this song, altered somehow to be more pronounced, and Dean can feel it along his spine, vibrating in the walls. One of his legs fits so perfectly between Castiel's and he's riding Castiel's thigh, desperate for friction as Castiel captures his lips' attention and won't let go. They're groping and grinding against each other and Castiel has one hand down his pants, suddenly, and his fist is so tight and hot and perfect… Dean's going to come. He knows he is, and he's not gonna do a damned thing to stop it.

_I like when you tell me kiss it there.  
I like when you tell me move it there.  
So giddy up - Time to giddy up.  
You say you're a rude boy?  
Show me what you got now._

_Come here right now._

"Come for me, Dean," Castiel growls, biting down on Dean's collarbone, and the younger man throws his head back, growling out Castiel's name as he comes, all over Castiel's hand and inside his pants – _that's _going to be uncomfortable when it dries.

Castiel pulls his hand out, licking at his fingers as he stares Dean right in the face, and then he slides his own fingers into Dean's mouth, still salty from his come, and Dean sucks him clean there and Castiel has to fight back a shiver. He takes Dean's hand, ignoring the fact that Dean still has his jeans undone and there are some people watching them, and pulls him into the alley outside. Dean's on his knees in seconds, and when Castiel is enveloped in the warm wetness of Dean's mouth, he can hear the final bit of the song through the just-cracked-open back door.

_Take it, take it  
Baby, baby.  
Take it, take it  
Love me, love me._


	8. Chapter 8

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Author's Note: I've been a little unclear about the timelines, and I'm sorry. I've just been rereading the chapters and I've realized that this is all potentially happening a lot faster than I had intended it to. So I just wanted to straighten things out (I tend to have to do this a lot with my stories).**

**On a Thursday, Castiel goes into the studio and shoots with Dean. Two weeks from that Sunday he gets the video. Uriel and Anna catch him watching it and Anna calls her uncle (Michael) and gets Castiel fired. Michael then calls Gabriel on the Monday after that and Dean finds out Castiel is fired. He visits Castiel's house that night and they get together and spend all of Tuesday together too.**

**The Wednesday is when Castiel agrees to sub for Alistair, and the fight happens. Dean bottoms for Castiel a week from then on the Thursday, so about a month has passed since the boys first met. I hope that clears anything and everything out because it sure as hell did for me. Thanks for reading so far and it'll be wrapping up soon, so (:**

**Author's Note (2): Here there be a foursome. Read at your own risk. (:**

* * *

The door slammed shut behind them, Castiel and Dean both locked at the lips as they tried in a drunken haze to get their clothes off. They'd stayed for another hour at the club with Sam and Gabriel after going outside during that song, and over the course of that hour Dean had sort-of been trying to drink Castiel under the table. It hadn't work – now both of them were quite sufficiently wasted and horny as hell.

"God, Cas, wanna fuck you. Right now," Dean growled, his words kind of slurring together but Castiel understood him well enough, and he moaned low in the back of his throat, grinding against Dean like an animal in heat. Dean shoved at his clothing roughly, growling in impatience when his hands kept _not _working. "Damn it."

"Can I fuck _you_ tonight, Dean?" Castiel asked, slightly less drunk and able to get both their shirts off, clinging to Dean as they rutted together, stumbling towards Dean's bedroom - again, gay-bashing girlfriend of roommate at Castiel's. No thank you. Dean paused, thinking about it, because the subject of Dean bottoming was still kind of…iffy. Castiel still felt like he was treading on thin ice, and he definitely did _not _want a repeat of that fight that had happened early Friday morning. Dean said he had to ask, so he would. Every time.

Dean thought about it for a second, and then shook his head. "Not at first," was all he said in reply, and Castiel nodded in understanding, before sealing his lips over Dean's, cutting off any more conversation they may or may not have had. He directed Dean to the other man's bedroom, shoving his lover down onto the bed so he could get them both undressed, since Dean seemed to be in no state to do it himself. It kind of made Castiel wonder if they would even make it all the way tonight, but he should never have doubted Dean's abilities in bed, even when completely wasted out of his mind.

He crawled over Dean and the younger man rolled, somehow managing to manhandle Castiel onto his stomach. The younger man's hand connected with Castiel's ass, just once, and it was startling enough that Castiel yelped, and bucked back against Dean, his brain somehow getting signals crossed and begging for more, instead of pushing Dean away like he kinda-sorta didn't want to.

Dean's cock was a hard line against the back of Castiel's thigh, the younger man rubbing himself against Castiel's leg to relieve some of the pressure while he dug through his bed-side table to find the lube, which he did relatively quickly. The sound of the bottle landing somewhere in the far reaches of Dean's bedroom was cut off as Castiel moaned. Dean slid one slick finger into him, his other hand rubbing the reddened skin of Castiel's ass, and the older man whimpered when Dean crooked his finger, finding his prostate immediately and began to torment it until Castiel was writhing and shuddering beneath him.

"Oh God, Dean," Castiel growled, shoving back onto the younger man's finger, desperate for it. "Fuck me, please…" It was too soon, with Dean only one finger in, but Castiel didn't care – he wanted to feel it. "Fuck me open, Dean – come on, do it! Please!"

Dean shuddered, hearing the out-and-out raw desire in his lover's voice, his throat dry when he replied; "It'll hurt, Cas." And he'd already hurt Castiel once by being too rough with him. He didn't want to make a habit of it.

"Don't care," Castiel replied, shaking his head before he looked over his shoulder, meeting Dean's eyes. "Want it, Dean. _Please…" _

And who was Dean to say 'No' to that? The younger man bit his lip, pulling his finger out again before he covered his cock with the rest of the lube, wanting to get it as slick as physically possible. His fingers curled around the bottom two ribs in Castiel's torso, fingertips digging into the softer flesh of Castiel's stomach and his thumbs framing Castiel's spine, and growled out a low 'If it hurts to much, just tell me to stop and I will', before he was pushing in. Castiel saw white behind his eyes, feeling the intense stretch as his muscles worked to accommodate Dean. It burned – good God did it burn – but it was so good as well. Castiel's shoulders dropped, his back bowing as he sank down, bracing himself on his forearms now, and shoved himself back, impaling himself in one swift thrust on Dean's cock. Dean choked on a gasp, his fingers gripping tighter in an attempt to regain his control and make this last.

"You okay?" he asked, once he felt like he could speak again and not be driven over the edge by Castiel's incessantly clenching muscles. He leaned down, rubbing his fingers in apology over the nail marks he'd left behind, lips and tongue making contact with Castiel's sensitive spine.

The older man shivered beneath him. "More than okay," he rasped, rocking back again and _fuck, _this was going to be over before it even started. Dean's hand snaked down; wrapping around Castiel's erection to find that, yes, Castiel was still enjoying himself _very _much. "Move."

Not quite thrusting, Dean rolled his hips against Castiel, relishing the drag in and out and the way Castiel's muscles clamped down when he tried to pull out, forcing him back in, trying to get him to go deeper. "Fuck, Cas, you're so greedy for it," he murmured into the older man's ear, loving the shiver it earned him. "So fucking greedy…I wonder how far I could stretch you. Wonder if you'd be able to take more than just me."

Castiel gasped so hard he almost choked, overwhelmed by what Dean was saying…Two…_inside of him._ God…what would that feel like? One sometimes felt like too much. Dean's hands were working magic along his skin, finding all the places he'd memorized on that first day and driving Castiel crazy, his body on fire with arousal.

"Saw you looking at them today, at the bar," Dean continued, returning most of his attention to the rhythm he was slowly building, his cock dragging almost lazily over Castiel's prostate every third thrust or so. "Sam and Gabe. Bet you could take both of them…let me watch. They're not small, either."

"Oh, _fuck, _Dean," Castiel mewled, driven crazy by that visual, his eyes clenched shut and fingers clawing through the bed sheets. "_Fuck."_

"Like that idea, Cas? Like the thought of them both inside of you while I watch, or suck you off? Maybe just let Sam do it…he's a giant. I think he'd split you in half all on his own." Dean smirked, dragging his teeth along one of the more prominent juts of Castiel's spine near the back of his neck. "Like that idea, Cas? Would you let me watch you get stuffed and fucked like that?"

"God, Dean…" Castiel was so close. So fucking close, over stimulated from Dean's hands and Dean's voice and Dean's cock…God, he was going to come. He was going to come right the fuck now.

"Well?"

"Fuck, _yes." _

"Come for me, Cas," Dean growled, jerking Castiel harshly, and the older man had no choice. His body went on lockdown, frozen into stillness as he came all over Dean's hand and the bed below him with a hoarse shout, white going off behind his eyes again. He swore he almost blacked out.

When he felt like he could come back to himself, Dean was petting his hair, still rocking lazily into his now-pliant and willing body as Castiel shook and tried to stop himself collapsing onto the wet patch. "Good boy," Dean purred into his ear, biting down at the sensitive, thin stretch of skin below it; "Now you get your reward."

By the time Castiel's brain caught up with what his ears were telling him, Dean had pulled out – still hard, his cock shiny with lube and pre-come – and went over to the bedroom door, opening it. "Hey guys, he's up for it," he called.

And suddenly Gabriel and Sam were right there.

Right. Fucking. There.

_Fuck._

They were both naked already, and had passed their time working each other up, if Sam's marked neck and their flushed bodies were anything to do by. Sam was grinning at Dean, but Gabriel was looking at Castiel with a predator's grin, and the smaller man was suddenly crawling towards him on the bed. Castiel backed away slightly, trying to get a hold of himself and his shaking, weak muscles, to no avail, and Gabriel very quickly and efficiently managed to pin him on his back onto the bed. Castiel could feel his come on the small of his back and wriggled to get away with it, which sent his spent cock rubbing against Gabriel's erection.

He sucked in a breath, panic making his heart race, because the only thing he could think about was Dean would kill him if he slept with Gabriel – his brain hadn't yet cottoned onto the fact that Dean was the one who'd invited them in. Gabriel suddenly leaned down, and the hands that were going to push him away ended up digging into his shoulders, encouraging.

Gabriel smirked down at him, watching Castiel's face for a moment, before he raised his voice for Dean to hear; "You always manage to bag the pretty ones, Winchester."

Dean's laugh sounded from somewhere over Gabriel's shoulder. "Wait until you see how he kisses," Dean replied, and Gabriel arched an eyebrow, this time directed at Castiel – a challenge.

Well…in for a penny… Castiel smiled a little – just the tip of one to make the other person feel ill at ease – and one of his hands curled around the back of Gabriel's neck, pulling the smaller man down for the clash of their lips. Gabriel was so different than Dean. Dean was coaxing and only slightly rough, willing to wait until Castiel opened for him and much more submissive than Gabriel was. Gabriel kissed rough and dirty, bruising with it almost, like he had something to prove and the ends justified the means he used to prove it. Castiel found his mouth being invaded by Gabriel's tongue, the rough of it dragging along the roof of his mouth, and _fuck; _that felt so strange. This was as close to feeling owned as Castiel had come to feeling from a kiss alone.

The bed dipped to the side of them, and Castiel opened his eyes just in time to see Sam claim Dean in much the same way, biting at Dean's lips until his brother opened for him, and –

Wait.

_His brother._

Shit.

Castiel abruptly sat up, pushing Gabriel away as he stared at the Winchesters making out. As he watched Dean mewled against Sam, fingers twining through Sam's shaggy hair as Sam pet his flank, running his hand down the side of Dean's body in a move that seemed so natural and practiced, that Castiel had the sick sort of feeling that they'd done that sort of thing before. Many times.

He looked over to Gabriel, hoping that maybe the alcohol had gotten to him and he wasn't watching his boyfriend commit _incest, _but Gabriel was smirking at him like he knew exactly what Castiel was thinking, and then his eyes were glued to Sam and Dean, and he was crawling towards the brothers as they continued to kiss, plastering himself to Sam's side. The brothers didn't even break stride, but Sam moved so that Gabriel could also touch Dean, and one of Dean's hands found Gabriel's thigh, gripping tightly.

"Come here, Castiel," Gabriel said, and despite the nausea churning in his gut, Castiel obeyed, still able to see very clearly when Sam coaxed Dean's lips apart, fucking him with his tongue, and Dean moaned under the rough, dominant treatment, his body arching for friction against Sam's. Castiel was ashamed to notice his own body was reacting to the visual, and he was now just as hard as before, from watching this…_wrongness._

"Stop thinking so much," Gabriel admonished, taking Castiel's hand and forcing him to place it on Sam's head, stroking through his hair right above Dean's. Dean's hand squeezed around Castiel's very gently as it moved. "Look at them," he continued, voice lowering in a mix of arousal and awe; "they're so pretty together, aren't they? Watch them…" Gabriel ran a hand across the side of Sam's face, dipping two of his fingers into the side of the brothers' interlocked mouths, moaning as one of them began to suck at his fingers, and Gabriel thrust gently into the fist Dean's hand was now making around his erection. "_Fuck."_

"But, _Gabriel,_" Castiel hissed, afraid of speaking too loudly, his voice low and urgent; "They're _brothers." _And it was sick, and wrong, and illegal…but so fucking hot, because yeah – Dean and Sam were attractive people, and watching attractive people make out is hot to other people who think that, Castiel being one of them. So if he didn't think about the fact that Sam and Dean share blood, he'd be okay…

Except they do.

And it's wrong.

"They don't do anything more than this, Castiel," Gabriel replied, withdrawing his fingers from Sam's (or Dean's) mouth. "It's just kissing."

"Yeah, but -."

"If you really have a problem with this, we'll stop." And _that _raspy, fucked-out voice belonged to Dean, who had finally been released from Sam's dominating kiss, lungs panting and lips swollen and red, and who was currently staring at Castiel as though begging him to understand, to accept this. "We've done it for years, Cas."

"I shot my first video with Dean," Sam added, shrugging at Castiel's shocked look. "I was nervous, and I trusted him. It was just mutual hand jobs, but I felt better that he was there. It's just…" Sam looked back at Dean, who met his eyes and shivered slightly when Sam pet down his side again. "I love my brother, and I sometimes have to show it. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable," he said, looking back at Castiel again.

"It's…okay…" Castiel said, slowly, still feeling a little in shock, but a bit better hearing Sam's words. "It just…surprised me, is all." He was sheepish, then, flushing in embarrassment at his reaction – because, in some weird way, it was kind of natural. When you love someone enough, you just _have _to touch them, and be near them, and you want to be able to show it. Parents and children do it when they're younger; why can't brothers? "I'm okay with it."

"Good," Sam replied, preening slightly. "Now…" He looked back at Dean, his smile turning more into a smirk. "I believe I heard something very interesting earlier on…"

Dean smirked as well. "Which part?" he replied, running a hand up Sam's thigh where Sam was straddling him, and yeah…it would take a bit of getting used to, but the revulsion was gone when Castiel watched them.

"The part about letting me fuck Cas."

Castiel sucked in a breath, because he'd forgotten what he'd hastily said he'd be willing to do, and now that he could see Sam in all his glory…the guy was _huge. _Like, there'd be some pretty accurate comparisons to animals being drawn here. Sam would split him in half.

Dean laughed, voice low and throaty. "I've already gotten him nice and wet up there for you, _little brother,_" he said – a test, to see Castiel's reaction, and there was none. Castiel remained a mix between crazy with lust and a little nervous and afraid; while Sam shivered at the thought of fucking Castiel when his brother's cock had already been up there, slicking the way for him.

"Oh really?" Gabriel was suddenly on top of Cas, pushing him down onto his stomach and pinning him with his deceptively heavy frame, straddling Castiel's back while his hands spread Castiel's legs, and they were able to see the lube and precome leaking out. Gabriel gave a low whistle. "Oh yeah, I think we can work with this, Sammy."

Sam gave Dean one last kiss, making Dean moan into his mouth before he got off his brother, situating himself between Castiel's legs, his giant hands joining Gabriel's smaller ones in spreading Castiel open. The older man whimpered slightly when he felt Sam's _tongue _against his hole, diving right in without a thought to the taste. Sam's hands were huge, easily holding Castiel's cheeks apart while he licked into the older man, lapping eagerly at the precome and lube leaking out of Castiel's hole, moaning at the taste.

"Fuck, Cas, taste so good," he growled, placing a light bite on the fleshy part of Castiel's ass, thumbs digging into the cheeks before he spat into the valley between, slicking Castiel's hole with his spit, which he pushed in with his tongue. Castiel moaned, hands clenching sharply in the sheets, raising his hips to meet Sam's mouth thrust-for-thrust, and it wasn't long before he was begging;

"Please, Sam, oh fuck _please," _Castiel implored, eyes clenched tightly shut, lungs burning for air. He spread his legs wider to give Sam more room, moaning again when he felt another hand digging into his spine, nails sending delicious pain-pleasure along his nerves. "God, Sam, fuck me!"

"Yeah, Sammy, do it," Dean growled, his voice suddenly right by Castiel's ear, his hand dragging up Castiel's spine until he came in contact with Gabriel's cock, fisting it slightly, earning him a low moan. "Ream his ass. Fuck him wide open."

Sam groaned, licking once more at Castiel's entrance before he was suddenly kneeling up, his cock lined up with Castiel's hole and suddenly there's just pressure, and fullness, and _stretch. _Fuck, Sam's big. Bigger than Dean by at least two inches and a little thicker, and Castiel gasped, panting, his body opening under Sam's cock, aided by the come and lube already up there, and Sam slid in with a few short thrusts. Both men were shuddering and panting by the time Sam bottomed out.

Dean grinned, sharing what could only be called an evil smirk with Gabriel, before he spoke; "How's he feel, Sammy? Go on, tell us." Dean's hand wound itself into Castiel's hair, curling at the nape of his neck and scratching slightly, making Castiel hiss and clench, tight and hot around Sam.

"_Fuck,"_ the younger man hissed, taking a hold of Castiel's hips as he began to pull out, and rammed back in seconds later. "He's so fucking tight, Dean. So tight and hot…fuck. Can feel him trying to keep me in. Such a greedy little slut for it."

Dean laughed, hearing Castiel whimper at the dirty, growled-out words. "Isn't he, though? My greedy little slut," he purred, mouthing at Castiel's neck, one hand knotted in his hair and the other stroking Gabriel who was gently rocking along Castiel's back. He pushed the older man down, still fisting his cock, and pulled Castiel's head up with his other hand, moving so Castiel's mouth hovered over the tip of his erection. "Come on, sweetheart, suck me off. I want to come in your mouth."

Castiel whimpered again, so driven with sensation it was crazy. Sam was huge, hot and thick inside of him, almost brutal with every jarring thrust, and Dean's hand had been merciless on his spine – a spot that Gabriel was now taking over, making him insane with pleasure, and when Castiel swallowed Dean down the taste and smell of his lover was so intense, and Dean smelled like come and lube and musk, and Castiel eagerly pushed up onto his forearms, able to move his head more now, and began to suck in earnest, desperate to taste Dean's come on his tongue and swallow.

Dean was throat-deep when Castiel cried out hoarsely, almost choking, at the feeling of a finger sliding in along Sam's cock. He tried to pull away, off Dean to see what was going on, but Dean held him down, shushing him quietly.

"It's alright, Cas, we'll take care of you," he heard Dean say, and relaxed somewhat, returning to what he'd been doing under Dean's gentle caress. The finger was soon joined by another, scissoring and stretching his hole more when even with just Sam in there it felt like too much, and the sensation was so _strange _but so good at the same time, especially when the fingers started brushing over his prostate repeatedly, sending his world spinning.

He moaned around Dean, making the younger man shudder against him, and Dean's cock twitched in his mouth, and that was the only warning before Dean was coming right down his throat, the hand on the back of Castiel's neck forcing him to swallow. Castiel was only allowed off when he swallowed every drop, and Dean pulled away from him, leaving him a gasping, writhing mess, pinned down still by Gabriel's weight and Sam's hold as Sam continued to fuck into him, Gabriel's fingers stretching him further.

"You think he can take both of us?" he heard Gabriel say, and gasped heavily, instinctively trying to sit up and push them away, but couldn't due to his lack of leverage. Dean was immediately near his head again, stroking through his hair gently, reassuringly.

"It…they won't fit. Please, so full already," Castiel gasped, eyes wide with panic, sure that if he had Gabriel inside him as well as Sam, he would die. "Dean, please, no."

"You'll be alright," Dean said, leaning down so he was whispering the words into Castiel's ear. "I would never make you do anything you couldn't do. Don't you trust me?" he asked, and when Castiel remained silent he smiled slightly, lowering his voice as he bit down against Castiel's ear; "If you do this for me, I'll bottom for you whenever you want. Any time, any place – you ask and I'll give it up. Will you do this for me, Cas?"

One epic mind game after another…

Castiel swallowed his fear and nodded, because that was an attractive offer, and one that Castiel could definitely take advantage of. He reached up, the angle slightly awkward, and pulled Dean down into a sloppy, desperate kiss, mewling into Dean's mouth when Sam pulled out and he was manhandled again, straddling the younger Winchester with Gabriel behind him. His eyes locked with Dean, who nodded and smiled, and then met Sam's heavy gaze. Sam was smiling slightly, like he knew exactly what Castiel was thinking, and drew Castiel into a slow, reassuring kiss, pushing back into Castiel's open hole with a low growl, and Castiel purred at the feeling.

Sam again was unique in his style. Sam was neither dominant nor submissive in a kiss; he was like a mirror. When Castiel opened his lips, so did Sam, and met him blow for blow, slide for slide, matching and silhouetting and complimenting Castiel's technique almost perfectly. It was weirdly hot.

"You ready for me, boys?" Gabriel asked, right behind Castiel now, breath skating across Castiel's neck, causing the man to shiver, and he nodded against Sam, barely breaking the kiss. He tensed, nervous, when he felt Gabriel shift behind him, but Gabriel was remarkably patient and kind about it. It didn't seem to suit him, with the way that he kissed, but when Gabriel began to slide in – too tight, too much, _fuck – _and Castiel tensed immediately, lifting his hips away from the other man, he was quick to soothe with his touches and his voice, rubbing the small of Castiel's back and Castiel's hips until he relaxed, and then was ready to go again.

It took an embarrassingly long time to actually bottom out inside of Castiel, and by the end Castiel was shuddering, sweating between the two men, whimpering against Sam's shoulder as he dug his nails into the meaty parts of Sam's back, gasping and trying desperately to just breathe.

"_Fuck," _Sam growled, trying to withdraw just a little, sliding against Gabriel's cock and Castiel's insides, and it was so fucking hot inside of Castiel, with barely enough room to move, and Castiel kept _clenching, _forcing them out and pulling them in in equal measure. "Fuck, Dean, it feels…"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, smiling as he nuzzled against Castiel, petting the older man gently as Castiel shivered, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Look so fucking hot, Cas," he purred into the older man's ear; "Can't wait for you to fuck me after this."

Castiel's eyes flew open, gasp leaving his full, parted lips, normally bright eyes lust-black. "_God, _Dean…"

"Shh, you're alright," Dean replied, stroking Castiel's sweaty hair. At that point Gabriel pulled out slightly, thrusting back into the impossibly tight space, just as Sam pulled out again, and the two of them managed to get a shallow rhythm going, both of them not lasting long due to the unnatural tightness of Castiel's welcoming body. Gabriel bit down on Castiel's shoulder when he came, filling the younger man with his come and a shudder, and the sensation of it sent Sam over the edge too, Castiel's channel suddenly so slick and wet, and the two men kept thrusting shallowly, Sam's giant hand wrapped around Castiel's cock to finish him, but Castiel stopped him.

"No. I want to finish inside Dean," Castiel growled, his eyes dark and intensely focused on the older Winchester, who sucked in a breath, remembering what he'd promised. He nodded after a moment, a man of his word, slightly nervous though as Gabriel and Sam would likely watch. Still, Castiel trusted him and Gabriel and Sam; he could do the same. "Come here, Dean," Castiel growled, still sandwiched between Sam and Gabriel, and attacked Dean's lips while Sam and Gabriel pulled out, whimpering at the slick sound it made.

Then he was on top of Dean, pouring lube which Gabriel had had to find to use over his own cock. "It's your turn to get fucked open," Castiel growled, almost threatening in his voice as he covered himself in the lube, then pushed two fingers straight into Dean. The younger man arched, gasping, his muscles tense and his mind in turmoil, but his body oh-so-willing for what Castiel was going to do to him; he opened up like a pro under Castiel, spreading his legs for it easily, without coaxing, and Castiel smirked.

Castiel slid in relatively easily, in one smooth thrust, regardless of how tightly Dean clamped down and tried to force him out. He gripped Dean's shoulders, thrusting into Dean almost violently – the roughest he'd ever come to treating Dean – and the Winchester howled for him, doing it again when Gabriel plastered himself to one side, Sam to the other. Sam turned his brother's head, claiming Dean's mouth while Gabriel's mouth descended on Dean's cock, making the younger man moan and buck up, forcing Castiel deeper, which made Castiel growl.

Dean was desperately clutching at Sam's hair, face contorted in so much pleasure it was almost pain, Gabriel's sharp mouth going to work, Castiel's cock driving him crazy and making him feel so _owned, _and Sam's tongue doing things that should be fucking illegal (and, technically, were).

Gabriel licked up Dean's shaft, and bit down very lightly on the thick vein running along the underside, and Dean growled as he came, painting his stomach and chest with his come, and Castiel thrust in half a dozen more times before he followed right after.

* * *

Castiel woke up coming, all over the inside of his jeans. He sat up, disoriented as all get-out, looking around. He was in Dean's bedroom…okay…there was a distinct lack of smell of sex…okay… He looked down at the slumbering body next to him, seeing Dean sleeping…fully clothed…and there was a distinct lack of nakedness and two other men around them.

A dream.

Well.

Castiel shifted again, wincing at the cooling come he could feel against his skin, and it was enough to startle Dean awake. He blinked lazily once, twice, before finding Castiel's face. "Hey," he said, voice weary with sleep as he searched out for Castiel's forearm, gripping loosely. "You alright?"

Castiel nodded, shifting and wincing again slightly. "Had a dream."

Dean caught the movement, raising an eyebrow. "Good dream?" he asked, suddenly interested, and sat up to help Castiel take care of his problem, but found nothing there to, well, take care of. "Or not?"

Castiel clear his throat, looking down, uncomfortable. "It seems I came in my pants."

"So it _was _a good dream," Dean said, grinning. "What was it about?" Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, it was clear to Castiel that this would not be a subject that he let go. "Something I would enjoy?"

Castiel blushed, fidgeting as he looked down at his lap. "It…was about you…"

"Yeah?"

"And Gabriel."

A pause.

"And Sam."

Another pause and Dean said nothing for the longest time – didn't even move and Castiel felt shame creep up his face, coloring his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Dean – it was just a dream, I know, and -."

"You had a dream about me, and my brother, and my brother's boyfriend," Dean stated flatly.

Castiel swallowed. "Yes."

"A foursome."

"Yes."

Dean paused again, biting his lip, before he sat forward so he could see Castiel's face. "And is this something you might want to happen in reality?" he asked.

Castiel visibly started, looking to Dean with wide eyes. "_What?"_

Dean grinned, shrugging. "What? I could totally get on board with that, and if the suite wants to do it, maybe we could make a video." Castiel just continued to stare at him, disbelieving that Dean – territorial, Alpha Dean – would be willing to do this just because he'd dreamed about it. "You remember that website I told you about? For the studio?" Castiel nodded. "Well, if we go on and post a request, and it gets popular enough, we can make it happen." He grinned, amused by Castiel's shocked face. "What, you thought I would get freaked or something?"

"No," Castiel replied honestly. "Just…mad, maybe."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm a porn star, Cas. We're porn stars. I'm not going to get pissed at you for a fantasy."

"I just thought…"

"What?"

"Never mind."

* * *

Dean kept watching Castiel for a moment, before he sighed and looked at the clock. Nine-forty-seven. May as well get up, then. Dean shoved himself to his feet, dusting himself off and wrinkling his nose at the smell of the bar that had clung to him last night. "Well, I'm going to shower, and then I'll show you the website," he said, heading to the bathroom.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"What happened last night?"

"Um…well, I think we drank and got smashed, came home and just collapsed," Dean said. "Why?"

Castiel shrugged. "No reason."

"Okay…so basically it's just a tagging system," Dean said, tapping his fingers against the wood of his table top while his computer booted to life. He typed in the studio's website and waited for the home page to sprout up – black screen with several snapshots of people in various pairings and positions, fringed in yellow, with a giant 'Enter Here' sign blinking in the bottom corner. Dean clicked, and once he was through (after logging in as an employee), he clicked on a 'Suggestions' drop-down box, revealing what essentially looked like a post on social networking sites, with a box for text and then… "You go through here, and if there's something specific you want there's usually a tag for it, and you choose it and then submit when you've got them all." He moved out of the way so Castiel could sit down, leaning over the other man's shoulder, watching as Castiel sifted through a few of the tags before he got to 'rimming' – they were in no order whatsoever, it seemed.

Dean huffed a laugh. "Oh, really? I think I need to get into your dreams more often." He fell silent again, Castiel blushing as he kept going through the list, selecting more and more things. Castiel couldn't see Dean's face, but if he could he might have laughed with how comical Dean's shocked expression was. "_Seriously?" _he breathed, fingers curling around the back of Castiel's seat when his lover added 'foursome', 'double penetration' and 'bare backing' to the list, as well as 'felching', 'come swapping', 'spanking' and several more. "Damn…vanilla my ass."

Castiel would have laughed if he wasn't so damn embarrassed.

"Rethinking your offer?" he asked, attempting and failing nonchalance as he continued through the list, the tags getting ridiculously numerous as he went.

"No," Dean answered immediately. "I'm just…surprised."

"A good kind of surprised?"

"…Yeah," Dean answered, and Castiel could hear how breathless he sounded, so took it as a good thing and kept going. By the time they were finished Castiel had gotten all the tags he wanted (and knew the meaning of, because there were just some that he had no clue about) and sat back, finished. "Ready to send it?" Dean asked, and Castiel nodded, flicking the mouse over the 'Submit' button and clicking.

There. It was done.

"Now we just see how popular it gets," Dean said, standing up again and stretching, smiling down at Castiel. "I'm gonna go make breakfast – you in the mood for anything in particular?"

"Just over easy eggs," Castiel said in reply, grinning when Dean leaned down and kissed him lightly, leaving Castiel unsatisfied when he pulled away. "Go. Cook. Be a housewife," Castiel said, grinning and swatting playfully at Dean's ass. Dean laughed and moved away, leaving Castiel alone with the computer.

Castiel looked between the computer and where Dean had disappeared, a plan beginning to form in his mind. He could get in trouble – Dean would be pissed if he found out. But…

Yeah…there were no 'but's. Dean would be pissed, so Castiel shouldn't.

Yeah.

He shouldn't.

Can't.

There's a pause, a moment between morality and desire, before Castiel quickly drew up another 'Suggestion' box, and began typing and tagging.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**sarahlizzie** is the best beta ever, but sometimes I'm just too impatient. (:

**Author's Note: I'm sorry for those of you who were either caught off guard, or didn't like, the foursome in the last chapter. I've had a few comments about the (slight) Wincest in it, and I have to say the reaction surprised me, but I am sorry that I didn't put the detail of it in. It won't happen again, I promise – if there's anything controversial in it, I will warn you.**

**This chapter contains the opening of a 'scene' between Azazel and Sam. There's no explicit detail. If you've read 'More Than Strangers' then it's like the first scene in it. (If you haven't; why not? xD )**

* * *

The room was dark and crowded. It wasn't as spacious as the rooms for the scenes where Alistair played, as he preferred a large space where he could display all the instruments of torture he used in all his videos. But Azazel liked simplicity. Well, surrounding him, anyway – he was the most gifted person in the studio when it came to ropes and knot work, creating intricate designs all over a human's body, perfectly crafted to restrict and at the same time show off a person's assets to their full potential.

Sam wasn't getting tied up yet, but they were getting there.

Azazel closed the steel-lined door behind him, approaching Sam where the younger man knelt, naked, in the middle of the padded room. The camera crew shifted almost silently to follow his progress as he walked up to Sam, and Castiel subtly stepped out of the way so that one of the cameras was unobstructed. Having been able to go home on the Friday, and having all the day off, Castiel had found himself with nothing really to do for the Saturday. So he'd gone into the studio, because he knew Sam and Azazel filmed on Saturdays and he was curious to see the different styles of the Doms. Already he could see that Azazel didn't focus so much on the pain, as on the restraint and control aspect of such relationships. Sam didn't shake in fear and pain when Azazel came close – he held perfectly still, holding his hands behind him and kneeling up, thighs tense from the effort of holding his position for so long.

The older man reached forward, his fingers twining gently in Sam's shaggy hair and he tilted the younger man's head up so their eyes could meet.

"Greet me properly, Sammy," he murmured, his voice soft with affection as he stroked his hand through Sam's hair, over the back of his head to land on a shoulder. Sam leaned forward, fingers splaying out along Azazel's thighs as he mouthed over the older man's cock, a hard line encased in the leather pants stereotypical of Doms.

Though Azazel _had _to be in his late forties, at least, it only really showed on his face. The rest of his body was youthful and strong-looking, which went well with Sam's giant frame. It was probably why they'd been paired together, Castiel assumed.

Sam let his mouth fall away, licking a light trail up Azazel's chest. He moved forward, animal-like, so he was resting his weight entirely on the balls of his feet now, one knee sandwiched between Azazel's legs as he kept going. Azazel only had to bend down a little when Sam knelt up for them to kiss – a light but dirty thing – and he deemed that a sufficient welcome, for he stepped away and allowed Sam to return to his previous position.

The only feature of Azazel's room – aside from the padded mats and the dozen people with their filming equipment – was a large black duffle bag, which was kept discreetly in one corner of the room. Inside were many, many pieces of rope, varying widely in color, length and thickness. He pulled out a long black one first – about as thick as his pinky and over three yards long – and returned to Sam.

A good scene can take a whole day to film. There are many things that can go wrong, for example, and sometimes many retakes are in order. Sometimes Azazel won't get the knot right first time and have to redo it, or Sam will accidentally do something that makes it come undone. Castiel watched for two hours before they finally got to any actual sexual part. Sam had been bound up very nicely – Azazel really could work wonders on a human's body with just a piece of rope. Sam's head was back, kept there by a collar Azazel had also retrieved, attached to a bar that ran down the length of his back, and would touch the floor and put pressure on his neck if he relaxed so much as an inch. His arms were bound around the bar, forcing his chest out and his head back, ankles tied to a ring at the end of the bar so he really couldn't move one bit. The restraint was weirdly hot – Castiel didn't really have a thing for bondage, personally – but what struck Castiel most was the interaction between Azazel and Sam. Like mentioned, Azazel wasn't about the pain. He was about restraint and control. The collar that had gone around Sam's neck was adjustable, and once or twice Castiel had thought he would choke Sam or deliberately make him uncomfortable – but no. He always asked if Sam was okay in a hushed voice, blocking the cameras because it was meant to be a silent video – the crew were edit out any unnecessary audio or video of people talking, except for that first greeting – and they must have worked some sort of system out long ago to tell if Sam was in pain or not, because sometimes Azazel would loosen the collar again, and sometimes he wouldn't.

Castiel knew, as a sub, that Sam would have a safe-word. As far as he could tell, Sam had never used it.

"I hate this part." Castiel jumped at the sudden voice by his shoulder, looking around to see Gabriel scowling at the scene. A cameraman shushed them with a dirty look, so Gabriel shrugged and cocked his head towards the door. Castiel nodded, because unfortunately the image of Sam fucking him (in his dream) was still fresh in his mind and watching Sam like that wasn't doing anything to help.

"What part?" Castiel asked once they were outside, following Gabriel as the shorter man led them up from 'Downstairs' into Bobby's Office, which had kind of become the four's unofficial hangout. Bobby didn't seem to care or mind, so it worked pretty well.

Gabriel huffed, flopping down on the couch while Castiel took the other end, back to the armrest as Dean had done on their first day together. "Just the…" Gabriel gestured vaguely to the air. "Whole thing, I guess. If I'm honest. I don't like seeing them together."

Castiel smiled. "You're jealous."

"Am not!" Gabriel snapped back. "Jealousy implies threat, and Sam still goes home with me every night. No…I just don't like seeing it. He trusts the bastard so much." He huffed again.

"Does he not trust you?" Castiel asked, confused as to what his friend's actual problem was. Castiel himself was eager to see Dean in a scene, and couldn't imagine why Gabriel would be so upset about it.

"It's not that," Gabriel replied. "They have…history."

"History?"

"Yeah." The older man shifted, getting into a more comfortable position on the couch – almost mirroring Castiel. He picked at a loose thread in the knee of his jeans. "When Sam first came on the studio, I'd been here for about six years. John was an old, old acquaintance of mine and when I left my family I managed to get a job here. I swear," Gabriel broke off, grinning and shaking his head; "As soon as I saw Sammy, I was just _gone._" Castiel nodded – he could relate. "But he was already dating someone."

"Azazel?" Castiel asked, shocked that someone as young as Sam would be dating someone who, even now, was twice his age. "He was dating Azazel?"

"As good as," Gabriel replied, nodding, "and I didn't like it, but I grit my teeth and bore it, and I watched whenever he'd come in the room and kiss Sam, or tug him close, or…fuck him. I watched, and I waited, and…well, I guess you could say I stole him away." He smirked slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It makes me sound like a horrible person, but that's exactly what I did and I don't regret it. And I know Sam loves me, now, but still…watching them together…I hate it."

"I understand," Castiel replied – and he did. During the two weeks he and Dean weren't together his mind tormented him with images of Dean and unknown lovers, knowing that Dean would get a new pieces of ass every day and that Castiel wasn't even a blip on his radar. "But he goes home with you now." He said it as much for Gabriel's sake as his own.

"Winchesters, man, they'll be the death of you," Gabriel said, laughing, and Castiel joined in, only stopping when he felt a pair of warm arms circle his shoulders, a chin resting on his head. He looked up and Dean moved away so they could see each other, and Dean kissed his forehead, grinning.

"And what are you two talking about?" he asked, leering at Castiel, making him blush. Gabriel merely shrugged. "Hey, Cas, did you tell him about the dream you had?"

"What dream?" Immediately Gabriel perked up, sitting forward and smirking when Castiel's blush only darkened. "A good dream?"

"From the description, _a very _good dream," Dean replied, rasping the words against Castiel's ear, making him shiver. "Very…detailed, I think. Involving me…" He brushed a hand down Castiel's chest; "And you –" His eyes flashed to Gabriel's face, "And Sam…There's a post on the website we put on. Feel free to vote for it."

"_Hells _yeah," Gabriel breathed, eyes lighting up in childish delight. "I'm voting, like, a million times."

"Dean!" Castiel gasped, horrified at Gabriel seeing what he'd written in his dream, and the stupid amount of tags attached to the post.

Dean, the bastard, merely laughed as Gabriel sauntered out, in much better spirits than before.

* * *

"Hey, Dean?" Chuck had managed to corner the man coming out of the bathrooms – where he totally _hadn't _been debauching his boyfriend six ways from Sunday, no sir – and held up a three-page script to him. "You were meant to do this tomorrow, after your day off, but we have a slot free and I was wondering if you and Castiel would be willing to…"

He trailed off, watching as Dean flicked through the pages. "Student-Teacher?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't Cas and I a little old for that?"

Chuck shrugged. "You're the youngest guy we have after Sam, and…they want you to be the student." Again, Chuck hesitated, because it was the role of the student, in that roleplay script, to be the bottom, and as far as Chuck knew, Dean didn't _do _stuff like that. Ever.

Castiel chose that moment to leave the bathroom as well – and Chuck actually smirked like he put two and two together, seeing Castiel's flushed face and reddened lips while Dean looked all cool and collected – and Dean shoved the script at him over his shoulder. Castiel took it, flicking through curiously. "So you'd want me to bottom."

"Well, yeah."

"For the camera."

"That seems to be the way the story's headed, yeah."

Dean could feel Castiel's eyes burning into the side of his head, and he bit his lip, thinking – because yeah, he trusted Castiel and was really okay bottoming…in the privacy of their own bedroom. He didn't want anyone else seeing him vulnerable like that.

Then again, he'd already been vulnerable with Cas once in his videos…

"Okay," he finally agreed, and didn't miss Chuck's surprised expression, turning instead to face Castiel. "Looks like you get to be my teacher." He smirked, winking.

Castiel returned the smile. "Sounds like fun."

"Awesome," Chuck said, recovering quickly as he clapped his hands together once, regaining the men's attention. "Well, we'll have a room ready in a couple of hours, so you can use that to memorize your lines and stage directions. I'll send someone to get you when it's time." And he left, because Chuck has better things to do that watch PDAs between his new hottest couple, like finally getting the courage to ask Becky out on a date.

"Alright…" Dean murmured, perusing through the pages as Castiel handed them back to him. "Luckily there's not a lot of dialogue. I've had fifty-page-double-sided scripts that they've expected me to learn in three hours. Not fun." Castiel smiled, and pulled Dean close for a kiss, on impulse. "What was that for?" Dean asked, smiling despite himself.

"You're being so…good, about this," Castiel said, shrugging slightly as he rubbed his thumb over the stubble on Dean's jaw. "You don't have to, at all, and yet you are." He shrugged again. "It means something."

"…Yeah." Dean swallowed, then cleared his throat, and swallowed again. The blush on his cheeks was very endearing. "Well, we should…learn this," he said, holding the script up like some kind of barrier between them, and Castiel had to wonder how Dean got over this shyness for the job. It didn't seem like an easy thing to do – at least not for Castiel.

He nodded, and followed Dean into another room, where they whiled away the hours learning their lines.

Chuck came to get them exactly two hours later, and Dean was nervous – he kept rolling and flexing the script in his hands, rubbing a hand through his hair as Castiel had come to realize he did whenever he was uncomfortable about something. Castiel watched his lover in a mix of concern and anticipation, eager to see how Dean would handle himself under duress. Although it wasn't the same – not even close – Castiel thought he might be able to uncover another layer of Dean during this shooting, and maybe see what he was like in stressful videos…like with Alistair.

The cameras were loaded, and the script was left nearby for reference (because they had only had two hours, people) and Chuck had signaled them to get started. Castiel had changed into an ill-fitting black business suit with a loosely-done blue tie, and the script told him to walk in with an ugly beige trench coat (honestly, where do people come up with these costumes?) and set the coat down on his desk, sitting behind it and pull out some papers, which he did, pretending to grade them.

Dean knocked on the door seconds later, and Castiel looked up. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a camera focused on his face, and it was hard not to just look at it like he wanted to. "Come in, Mister Winchester," he called, trying to put on the voice he'd imagine a senior year teacher would sound like – rough edges and impatience. Dean opened the door, dressed as he usually was with jeans and a t-shirt, boots and a black hoodie over his shirt. The only change he'd gone through was a letterman jacket that hung loosely off his shoulders, and he'd been given a shave and some cover-up to make him look younger.

And _damn, _did he look younger. Castiel felt mildly pedophilic, looking at him.

"Have a seat," Castiel said, gesturing to one of the chairs pulled up on the other side of his desk. Dean hesitantly shuffled forward, playing perfectly the role of a teen who knows he's in trouble and really just _doesn't _want to be there, and sat down, slouching, head bent to his lap. He looked like he was praying, somewhat. "Now, Mister Winchester -."

"Dean," Dean said, right on cue. Castiel smiled.

"Dean, then. I've been going over your recent assignments, and I have to say they've been…disappointing." He'd rolled his eyes, looking at this script, thinking it so trite and stereotypical, but now…Now, it was like he _became _the character, and everything flowed naturally. He sat back in his chair, feeling it give slightly under his weight, and folded his hands on his desk. "I'm beginning to wonder if my class is really the right course for you."

"What do you mean, sir?" Dean asked, looking up with wide, bright green eyes as Castiel stood, and the older man repressed a shiver at the youth and innocence Dean was portraying so well. Plus the way he said 'sir'…God that was just hot.

"D's, Mister Winchester," Castiel said, sliding papers covered in red marks over his desk as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the edge. Dean leaned forward, swallowing when he saw the grades, before looking back up to Castiel, panicked. "For the past three months. All D's. I'm surprised they haven't suspended you from the team until your gradess improve."

"I…" Dean reached forward, as though to pull the papers closer, his fingers curling just before they touched and rested against the desk. When he met Castiel's eyes again, his expression was desperate, voice low; "Mister Novak, I can't lose my place on the team. Please, isn't there something I can do to make my grades up? Extra credit or something?"

Castiel had just enough time to think Dean would have made a very good actor before he had to remember what his next line. He sighed, pushing away from the desk and shrugged off his suit jacket, setting it on the back of his chair over the trench coat. The cameras shifted just slightly, moving so that one sat behind Dean, looking over his shoulder, and the one on Castiel's face sat back, broadened its view to catch both the men, just cutting off before the other camera could ruin the shot.

"You have potential, Dean," Castiel said, softening his voice as began to walk around the far side of the desk, fingers trailing along the edge before he came to lean against the desk beside Dean, both of them staring at each other as Castiel folded his arms over his chest, sighing again. "A lot of potential, but I don't know if there's any…academic help I can give you."

"Please, sir," Dean said, standing up and coming closer to Castiel, just a little – "Mister Novak – please. I'll do anything to up my grade."

Castiel smiled slightly, and Chuck yelled 'Cut!'

Dean blew out a breath, shifting away from Castiel immediately, looking at the floor. Castiel's eyes followed him. "Are you warm?" he asked, because the room was generously heated and Dean was wearing a lot of layers. When Dean shrugged, Castiel frowned in concern; "Are you okay?"

"Just…" He ran a hand through his hair; "nervous." He blushed slightly, biting his lower lip as he looked down, and Castiel finally moved, stepped into Dean's space and brushing a hand through his hair, where it grew short above his ears.

"You have nothing to be nervous about, Dean," Castiel said empathically, smiling slightly when Dean leaned into the touch. "I understand why you are – I really do – but you'll be okay, I promise. I would never do anything to make you anything other than okay."

"I know, Cas," Dean said, sounding so young and lost about it, and Castiel just had to ask;

"Is there a reason, Dean? This goes beyond control. You don't like people watching." Dean nodded. "What happened?"

Dean's eyes darted around them, where people were hurriedly changing the reels on the cameras and checking lighting and going over the audio feeds, making sure everything had come through and they didn't have to redo anything, and Chuck watched what they'd filmed, looking for the same thing. "I…don't want to talk about it."

Another wall. Castiel nodded, brushing his hand through Dean's hair one more time before he pulled the younger man down for a kiss. "I love you," he murmured when they broke away.

Dean smiled; "I love you too."

"And I love it when you call me 'Sir' and 'Mister Novak'," Castiel added, lightening the mood by changing the subject, counting it as a success when Dean's eyes darkened and the younger man smirked. "Makes you seem so fucking young and innocent," he continued, growling the words into Dean's ear. "So fucking hot."

"I'll be sure to remember that, _Mister Novak," _Dean replied, just in time as Chuck cleared his throat, forcing the two to separate and continue;

Dean had relaxed, now. It was evident in the set of his shoulders and the ease with which he said his lines – he was still playing the nervous, desperate teen, but Castiel could almost _feel _the trust and serenity in his body heat. When 'Mister Novak' began touching Dean, the younger man was suitably nervous about it, uncomfortable and skittish, but Castiel sensed his willingness, now. They only had to stop twice to remember lines, and twenty minutes later Castiel had Dean spread out beneath, perched on the edge of his desk, the only thing still on him was his letterman jacket because apparently 'Mister Novak' had a fetish for his uniform.

He crawled onto the desk, hovering over Dean, and leaned down and kissed him. Dean was hesitant, petting along Castiel's sides, and instinctively Castiel tensed for the pain of his nail marks, before remembering that it had been a dream.

_Wow. Inappropriate thoughts._

Castiel fought back a chuckle against Dean's lips, finding that during the bathroom break Dean had taken before they started shooting, he'd lubed himself up and stretched himself out very…effectively. Castiel remembered Dean talking about how viewers didn't like to see the prep stage. He was suddenly grateful because he kind of didn't want to wait, and he tore open a condom, slipping it on. It felt…well, to be perfectly honest, Castiel hadn't thought he would have to wear a condom again. It's a naïve thing to think, but it's true – without fear of pregnancy and virtually zero possibility of STDs, Castiel had been spoiled with the feeling of fucking Dean without latex. The sensation was dulled, coated in the thin, slicked plastic, when he pushed into Dean, and though Dean was just as tight and just as hot as usual, Castiel knew how it _could _feel, and it wasn't nearly the same.

He reared up, because this was a teacher-student video, and it wasn't having sex with his lover. He wasn't meant to treat Dean like something precious, no matter how much he wanted to. Castiel grabbed on Dean's thighs, holding them close to his sides as he fucked into Dean, the younger man moaning and writhing deliciously for him, sending papers and stationary flying off the desk from the scrabbling hands. The smooth wood of the desk wasn't giving him anything to grab for purpose, and he knew as well not to clutch at Castiel, so settled for jacking himself off, slowly – lazily, to match Castiel's pace.

The actual sex part ended up lasting almost an hour, the sensation dulled by the condom around Castiel's cock, and he felt kind of guilty because they kept having to stop, because a camera would get too close and intercept another shot, and it was hard for Dean to stay hard the whole time and make it seem like he enjoyed it. Castiel finally shuddered to a climax, his hand wrapping around Dean's cock, jerking him desperately until the younger man came with a small, strangled groan. Castiel gasped, bent double over the younger man for a long while, staring down at Dean who was looking back up at him expectantly, and Castiel frowned. Fuck, he had a line here.

Damn it…

"Um, line?" he asked, and Chuck laughed slightly. Dean smiled, and Castiel felt it around his over-sensitive cock when his laugh made his muscles clenched.

"It's 'I think that was worth an A, Mister Winchester," Chuck called, turning to the cameras. "Let's get that last part again. Castiel, just thrust a couple more times then say your line – we can work around that."

"Sorry," Castiel said guiltily, and Chuck just shrugged and gestured for him to continue. Castiel repeated his line and Dean grinned, before Chuck called it as a wrap and he could finally pull out. "Oops," he said, biting his lower lip, tendons in his neck flexing in a guilty expression.

Dean grinned. "It happens," he said, searching around for his clothes and hastily pulling on his jeans and the hoodie, pushing the letterman jacket and giving it to an assistant along with Castiel's costume – the assistant exchanged it for Castiel's original change of clothes, which he handed to the older man, who got dressed.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asked, frowning in concern at Dean's…skittishness. He seemed ready to bolt – when Castiel touched his forearm Dean was tense and coiled to spring. "Dean?"

"I'm fine, Cas, really," Dean said, sighing slightly. "I just…that was a huge first for me. I'm afraid there will be…expectations."

"Expectations?" he repeated, following Dean towards Bobby's Office.

"Yeah," Dean replied, shrugging in a mock-nonchalant way. "I don't want people to think that I'll just bottom for anyone, now. I…trust you, Cas. I don't trust a lot of other people."

They entered Bobby's Office, seeing Sam and Gabriel bent over Sam's laptop. They looked up as the two entered, the grin on Sam and Gabriel's faces giving Castiel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "So…"Gabriel said, tilting his head slightly as his eyes flickered between Castiel and the laptop's screen – with the same predator's grin from Castiel's dream; "Someone's got a dirty little mind hidden under that pretty face, don't they?"

Castiel blushed, biting his lip. "It was just a dream."

"Sounds like something that'll be happening," Sam commented, sending Gabriel a semi-dark look, and the smaller man grinned and shrugged. "The thing's been voted on, like, a billion times."

"Really?" Dean asked, grinning at Castiel as he slung an arm around the younger man's shoulder. "Looks like you'd better get planning, Cas, and preparing."

"Preparing?"

"Dude, two cocks is a lot. You're going to want to be…used to it, somewhat."

"I'm surprised you were the one bottoming," Sam mentioned, earning him a curious look. "What? You're very dominant, Castiel. It's surprising, to me."

"There's such things as both, Sammy," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes and Sam stuck his tongue out at Gabriel, which of course the older man quickly took advantage of, sucking Sam's tongue into a kiss. It seemed strange, but now that Castiel knew about the couple's past, it seemed like…was that edge of desperation on Gabriel's part always there? Dean grinned, heading over and stealing Sam's laptop and setting it on his lap.

_Shit, _Castiel thought immediately, watching Dean. If he came across what Castiel had posted… Castiel joined Dean, immediately sliding into Dean's lap like Gabriel had done to Sam so many times, effectively forcing the Winchester to put the laptop away and give Castiel his full attention.

Dean grinned at the slightly clingy behavior, none-the-wiser, and easily went when Castiel tilted his chin up and kissed him, turning Dean's head so that Castiel's body managed to block out any potential screen he might see. Castiel kissed him slow and dirty, experimenting with the different styles he had dreamed about; he slid the rough of his tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth like dream-Gabriel had, delighted at the little shiver-moan Dean gave, and felt goose bumps rise on Dean's neck. So…he liked that.

Good to know.

Castiel did it again, purring when Dean shifted them so Castiel was sitting with his weight more on one of Dean's legs, sitting side-on to the younger man as he kissed him, hands curling gently in his hair. He was afraid to breathe, honestly, because it would only take one glance for Dean to see what Castiel had done, and he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to confess and he was so afraid, because he hadn't actually considered that it would happen…but what if it did? What if the idea became so insanely popular that Zachariah couldn't ignore it? He couldn't believe no one had thought of it before, but what if?

God, he's so screwed.

A hand between his shoulder blades startled him so much that he jumped, almost landing on his ass on the floor. Dean caught him just in time, chuckling as he licked over Castiel's now-sore lip, which he'd accidentally bitten during his flail. "Relax; s'just Sammy," he murmured against Castiel's jaw, biting down slightly and joining his brother's hand, nails digging into the sensitive dip of Castiel's spine. The older man hissed when Sam's hand began to drag, scratching down his back, not dulled at all through the thin cotton of his shirt, and Castiel bucked against Dean, burying his face in the younger man's neck.

"Fuck, too much," he growled, the words coming out garbled, but he hoped Dean would be able to hear him.

He chuckled, the bastard, and pushed Castiel away slightly, guiding Sam's hand to a less sensitive area on Castiel's back. "I wish we could keep this going, but Sam and I have to go anyway," Dean said, pushing at Castiel until the older man had to stand, and Dean got up too, smiling at him, then his brother. "I'll be here a while," he said, looking back to Castiel. "Can I meet up with you later for dinner?"

"Sure. I'll cook," Castiel replied, smiling widely at Dean.

"Will the…company be okay?"

Castiel nodded. "Uriel and Anna are out of town for the company's bonding trip or something. The place will be all ours until Tuesday."

"Awesome." Dean grinned, kissing Castiel one last, chaste, time. "See you then." And then he left, Sam in tow as the brothers exited the room, going off to who-knows-where, which kinda gave Castiel thoughts of maybe they were shooting a video together again, and that might be interesting to watch…but then again, he didn't actually have any proof that there was anything more than platonic between Sam and Dean aside from a dream and the willingness to participate in a foursome…

Then again, there would be him and Gabriel as a buffer so…

His head hurt.

Gabriel and Castiel were alone in Bobby's Office, now, and Castiel turned to see Gabriel flicking his thumb over the touch pad of Sam's laptop. "So…you'll never guess what I found as number sixty in the list of most popular suggestions," he sing-songed, flashing his honey-hazel eyes up at Castiel.

The sinking feeling was back. "Please don't tell Dean," was all Castiel said.

Gabriel shrugged. "It's not my place to tell. You should just know that…it's climbing, and it might not be long before Zachariah starts listening, and then Dean _will _find out, and then…" He shrugged again. "Who knows?"

"You know why he'd be mad at this?" Castiel asked, sitting down next to Gabriel and staring at the laptop, where his suggestion sat, quietly accusing, staring back at him from the blinking screen. "He can't know. Maybe it won't get popular enough."

Gabriel closed the window after deleting the search history. "Maybe." He set Sam's laptop down after closing it, powering it off first, then turned to Castiel. "I hope so, for your sake. I've never seen Dean so happy, which in turn makes Sam happy, which is good for me." He smirked slightly. "I would hate to see that situation change."

"Is there any way to delete the suggestion?" Castiel asked, a little unnerved at how threatening Gabriel's voice had suddenly gotten, and the new tense set of his shoulders. His fingers curled into the soft fabric of the couch, and he'd be tearing at it if his nails were sharper.

"Once it's there, it's there," Gabriel replied, standing up. "You just gotta get down on your knees and pray, bro, otherwise shit's gonna hit the fan, big time."

And then he walked away, and Castiel was left wondering what the fuck he'd been thinking.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**sarahlizzie** is the best beta ever.

**Author's Note: Here there be angst and total fuckery of relationships. Enjoy (:**

* * *

"I don't want to."

Sam smiled, looking at his slightly pouty boyfriend as Gabriel sulked in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and bottom lip jutting out like he did when he was trying to get Sam to do something he wanted. "Yeah, you know you do," he replied, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Gabriel from behind. He chuckled again when he went to kiss Gabriel but the man turned away with a huff.

"No. I don't," he said again, this time growling the words and pouting once more. "I don't want to see that bastard ever again. Not after what he did to our family."

"Your brother's court hearing is in a week and two days, Gabe," Sam said gently, cupping Gabriel's chin in his giant hand and forcing the older man to look at him. "I know you're being stubborn and prideful, but if your brother goes away to jail without you even seeing him, I think you'll regret it."

Gabriel's nose wrinkled. "I think if I show my face around Michael he'll call me a fag and have me thrown out of the courtroom, Sammy. I'd rather see him with the safety of a cop behind us." He huffed again, folding his arms over his chest more tightly, pulling Sam's arms with him.

"Well it's a good thing you don't really have a choice," Sam said, pulling away and turning Gabriel to face him, smiling slightly. "I've already gotten us that Wednesday off, and we're going whether you like it or not." Gabriel's eyes narrowed at the taller man, torn between being legitimately pissed or amused that Sam was so adamant he go to Michael's court hearing. "Come on – I'll make it up to you," the younger man added, lowering his voice as he smirked suggestively down at Gabriel.

"It's gonna take a fucking lot of making up to me, Sammy," Gabriel said, without much heat, because Sam was getting that gleam in his eye that meant Gabriel was gonna get good and fucked later that night. "Don't think you can get out of this so easily." Sam was leaning down, and any more protests Gabriel might have had were muffled against Sam's mouth, and the fight went out of him pretty damn quickly after that.

* * *

He hadn't meant it to go like that.

He hadn't meant it to happen at all.

He'd been _safe. _It _hadn't happened. _

But then it did.

Turns out that after a week, if suggestions don't reach the top twenty, then they get deleted and they have to be resubmitted if you want it to happen. So Castiel watched his entry every single day, quivering with so much pent-up nerves that he damn near had a breakdown or panic attack waiting for it to not happen. But it got up to number twenty-three and stayed there until the following Sunday, and didn't move.

He was so weak with relief when he refreshed the page that he almost cried.

Dean had noticed. Castiel hadn't exactly been subtle about it. He'd lived that entire week in fear of the suggestion being put through to Adler, or Gabriel to tell Dean, or for him to tell Sam who would tell Dean, or _someone _find out and Dean to find out. He'd gotten as close to Dean as he could, sure that each time he let the younger man push him down onto their bed and spend the night with him, it would be the last one, and he'd never have that again. He told Dean those three magic words every day – more than once if he could manage it, and if their schedules allowed them to see each other. He didn't ask Dean to bottom, too guilty about what he would potentially make his lover do.

God, it was all his fault. He was going to Hell and it was all his fault.

But he'd been in the clear. The suggestion had been deleted. It wasn't his problem anymore – if someone else made it happen, then it wouldn't be _his _fault. Dean couldn't blame him.

Except he'd put the idea out there, now, and people obviously liked it. Just not enough.

"You're not exactly being subtle about this," Gabriel said, picking at his nails in a bored way as he loitered and generally did nothing around the place, just waiting for his video time to start. Castiel looked his way, knowing he was right but too irritated to do anything about it. "The best thing would be to just come clean now, before Dean finds out about it through someone else."

"I can't tell him, Gabriel," he replied, sitting on his hands to stop them fidgeting, biting his lip lightly. "I can't. It's…It's too awful. What I did."

Gabriel sighed, shook his head, and deemed it a lost cause trying to convince Castiel otherwise that the continued deceit would only make him look worse when the truth did come out – and boy, when it came out…

* * *

"Hello, Dean," Alistair said, grinning as he waltzed through the door to 'His Room' in the 'Downstairs'. Dean was already naked and kneeling and ready – today wasn't filming, just regular training, but Alistair could be just as brutal off camera – even more so. More than once Chuck had had to call him off from a session he'd gotten too carried away in.

Dean looked up defiantly, jaw set because he had really _not _missed Alistair during his absence in LA and had kind of hoped the bastard would just stay there. Alistair blinked at him, still grinning madly; "What, not even a 'Hello'? Aren't you going to ask me about my trip? Are you mad because I left without a word?" he asked, kneeling down in front of Dean and gripping the younger man's chin in his hand, tilting Dean's head to his level. When Dean remained silent Alistair clucked his tongue once, then let the man's head drop as he stood. "Fair enough. Straight down to business – I've always liked that about you," he said before going over to one of his walls, this one adorned with various types of spreader bars and methods of restraint.

Whenever Dean tried to speak in a session with Alistair, he always ended up beat black and blue – you know, more-so than usual – so eventually he just gave up trying to speak or respond. Everything Alistair says is lies, goads to get you to react anyway.

"I've heard you've been a very busy boy while I was away," Alistair commented, turning back towards Dean and holding two three-foot bars in his hand, stroking down them with the other as he looked between Dean and the bars. "Managed to shoot some very interesting videos…" Dean tensed, knowing what was coming, and Alistair smirked. "Started bottoming for that half-twink of your boyfriend?"

He knelt down behind Dean, hissing the words in his ear; "Started getting a little looser, or is it because you _trust _him?" He spat the word, and Dean's shoulders tensed even more until he thought they were going to snap, if possible, and Alistair smirked slightly before standing in front of Dean again. "Stand up and come over here."

Dean obeyed, and Alistair bent him over a waist-high table – unpadded because he didn't bother with things like that – fastening Dean's wrists to manacles that were attached to the far corners. His hands caressed Dean's back with a frightening, creepy slowness and intensity, making the younger man shiver. Alistair forced Dean's ankles through one of the bars' cuffs, fastening them _this _side of being too tight, and then from there used the second bar to fix the first to a ring in the floor under the table. He then walked back to grab something to use…because he was feeling particularly restless today.

"You know, you shouldn't, Dean-o," he sing-songed, looking over his collection of whips, crops, floggers, birch sticks and cat-o-nine-tails. "Castiel's been a very naughty boy behind your back." He turned back to look at Dean and noticing that the younger man was turning his face away from him, trying not to let Alistair see how much he was affecting him. "Oh yes, a very bad boy, and do you know why, Dean?"

The younger man didn't answer, and Alistair repaid his silence with a light slap of a birch stick across his shoulders. Dean tensed and hissed slightly. "He went ahead and tried to get you like this," Alistair hissed in Dean's ear, smacking him again with the stick. "Tried to get you to become me again. We should have known you wouldn't be able to handle it."

Dean _did _look up at that, his eyes wide and disbelieving as he met Alistair's. _He lies, he lies, he…_ "Castiel submitted an entry to get you to Dom me, Dean-o. Has someone been blabbing? Did you think you'd be able to get behind your boyfriend, using him as a shield?" Then, Alistair focused on Dean's face for a moment, taking in the honest shock and the wide-eyed horror growing behind Dean's eyes.

He laughed. "You didn't _know." _Then, he slapped the stick into his own hand, and laughed again, going to grab a different weapon – a flogger, this time. "Well, isn't that just _fantastic?" _The word was punctuated with a blow to Dean's back, laying him open to the bone in one stroke, and Dean jerked and cried out, his entire body tensing at the unanticipated pain. "Little Cas decided to take matters into his own hands?" He laughed one more time, because this thing was too fucking funny. "Oh, I guess he overestimated your _weak _stomach."

* * *

He hadn't meant it to go like that. He thought he'd been in the clear.

"The _one _thing Cas, the _one _fucking thing," Dean growled, shoving at Castiel's shoulders until the older man hit the door to his apartment. They were in Dean's, Castiel had been able to go there early and wait for Dean, only to find Dean already there, murder in his eyes and his tone as threatening and hurt as Castiel had ever heard it. "That was the _only _thing I said I wouldn't do – _couldn't _do – and you decide to try and force me anyway! What the _fuck _is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said, his voice near-begging Dean to understand as he shied away from the younger man, because Dean looked like he was going to kill him and, to be honest, the man was contemplating it. "I didn't know what I was thinking – I'm sorry!"

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't have fucking done it," Dean growled, finally stopping behind his couch, Castiel panting in front of it. "Why, Cas? Why? You _knew…_You _knew _I couldn't…that I…" He looked down, leaning on the back of the couch, swallowing and panting and desperately trying to get control of himself. "Why would you do it?" He looked up.

"I wasn't thinking. I just wanted you to have…closure. I don't…" Dean's eyes darkened, and he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"_Closure?"_ he repeated incredulously. "If I wanted fucking _closure, _I would have -." He choked off again. "You know…you know I go where she works, every day. Almost every day, at least. She works at the Roadhouse – she's Ellen's daughter, you know, and after what happened to her it was a long time before Ellen didn't greet us with the barrel of a shotgun. And I go, and I watch her wait tables and laugh and have fun and I think, every fucking time, that I was one stroke away from making it impossible for her to be there now. She still has the scars, Castiel. She still…has to wear long sleeves, even in summer, because they raise too many questions, and…" Dean had to stop, choking on tears. "And I keep trying to go to her and tell her that I'm sorry – so fucking sorry – but I can't, because I'm too much of a fucking coward." There was a long pause, before Dean looked up, his eyes bright with tears and some of them spilling over and running down his face. "And you have the _fucking nerve _to try and make him _like him?"_

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, voice breaking slightly. He stepped forward, but Dean was already away, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"And to hear it from _Alistair _of all people?" Dean growled, wiping furiously at his face to try and get rid of the traitor tears. "God, you know…you have _no fucking right, _Castiel. No fucking right." And then suddenly Dean was right there, and Castiel tensed, fully prepared for Dean to hit him, or fuck him until he was satisfied or something. "Get out."

Castiel blinked. "What?" he asked, unsure.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, Castiel. I can't stand to look at you anymore. We're done," Dean spat, and began to stalk away.

"Dean -."

"I said we're done."

The silence was deafening in the apartment as Castiel stared at the tense set of Dean's shoulders, and then the older man nodded and picked up the jacket he'd taken off, folding it over his arm, and headed towards the door. He hesitated briefly, stammering over the brief 'I'm sorry' before finally just giving up on trying again, and he sighed and walked out the door. He missed Dean practically falling to his knees when the door clicked closed.

* * *

The next few hours were lost in a stream of missed calls, ignored phones and desperate messages left behind;

- _Dean, I'm so, so sorry about what I did. There's no excuse, I know. But it didn't happen, Dean, it didn't happen and I'm sorry but I thought –_

_- I didn't know about the girl. I know I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry –_

_- Dean? Gabriel told me what happened. What the fuck, man? Do you need me to come over? Chuck's freaking out – you need to come into work. Please? Can we just talk? –_

_- Can we talk this out, Dean? Please? I need you. I love you. I want to fix this. –_

_- Dean-o. Look, about this business with Castiel – I get it, the guy fucked up and believe me I'm ripping him several new ones as soon as I'm done here, but maybe –_

_I'm sorry, Dean._

_I'm sorry, Dean._

_I'm sorry, Dean._

Eventually Dean yanked the damn phone out of its cable in the wall and threw it across the room. It smashed to pieces against his DVD shelf and he didn't bother picking up the pieces or the DVDs he'd managed to make fall from the collision. He didn't want to _talk _to anyone. He shut off his cell phone too, and for extra good measure shut and locked all his windows, and kept the TV and radio off just in case Castiel was desperate enough to try something that way.

* * *

"Hey man, are you the guy that this pizza's for?" Castiel looked up from where he'd kinda-sorta stationed himself outside Dean's apartment, waiting for his (ex)boyfriend to come out because Dean sure as Hell wasn't going to answer his calls. It was kind of like stalking, sure, but…well, he _had _tried the 'giving space' thing, but…

He looked up into a pair of gale green eyes in a lightly tan face, complete with a nice friendly smile and a little fringe of dark blonde hair peeking out under the baseball cap sporting the pizza place's logo. He was wearing casual attire – boots, jeans, polo shirt covered by a leather jacket lined with possibly fake sheep skin…Castiel didn't know.

The older man forced a smile at the kid. "Yeah, that'd be me," he said, coughing because it had actually been a while since he'd spoken at all, and dug into his pocket for the twenty to pay the guy. The teen took his money and gave him the change, before his eyes flickered to the door.

"Rough night?" he asked as Castiel opened his double pepperoni and took a bite of the first slice. He slid down the wall until he was sitting next to Castiel, taking off the cap and scrubbing over his head until his hair fell into a less flat, more natural kinda-spiky thing going on, because of the shortness. Castiel found himself staring without realizing it.

He nodded. "Yeah. My partner threw me out."

The kid raised an eyebrow; "Why'd he do that?"

Castiel blinked. "How did you know he was a he?" he asked, cocking his head to one side as he took another bite.

The guy smiled. "I used to have to know those things. You've got the vibe," he said, gesturing at Castiel, whose eyes abruptly widened as he realized why the guy looked strangely familiar.

"You're Adam Milligan," he breathed, turning towards the teenager as the boy flushed, realizing he'd been recognized. "You're all over the news, man. I used to work for Michael Santos," Castiel added, feeling like he needed to justify his sudden interest in the teenager. "So…you're delivering pizza now?"

Adam shrugged. "Friend of a friend owns the place and offered me a job after I got fired from my old one. It's got better hours, if I'm perfectly honest," he said, flashing a sweet smile over Castiel's way, and yeah – he could kind of see the appeal in the jailbait now, but _inappropriate thoughts there. Stopping right now. _ "So, what'd you do?"

"I just…fucked up. Really bad," Castiel said, sighing as he sat back and stared at Dean's closed door, running a hand through his hair. "And I don't know how I'm going to fix it."

"You ever tried giving him space?" Adam asked, raising his eyebrow at Castiel, who nodded.

"Yeah. That was four days ago. He hasn't shown up to work, hasn't left the apartment as far as I know. His brother's pissed at me, his friends looking to tear me limb from limb, and he needs to work. Our boss pretty much sent me home and, in his words 'Fix this shit up otherwise you're both fired'," he finished, mimicking Adler's voice almost perfectly. If there's one thing the son of a bitch didn't like, it was bad business, and Dean was causing bad business because he was always in need of shooting videos or training and since his funk was throwing off Sam, Gabriel _and _Castiel, they were making easily only half of their normal output every day. It wasn't good for business.

Adam cocked his head to one side. "Where do you work?"

"Porn suite a couple blocks away," Castiel replied without hesitation, because if there's one thing Adam would be able to accept it was a porn site. Not like he wasn't in a similar boat. Adam pursed his lips, nodding as he thumped his head lightly against the wall.

"Well. Have you tried actually, you know, knocking? Or something?" Adam asked, gesturing to the door. Castiel blinked at him, because he legitimately hadn't considered it. "Not right now," Adam added, clapping Castiel on the shoulder – "Give him a bit more time. Granted, it's harder through the door, but I'm pretty good at reading people, and I would wait until…well, I would wait."

"I feel like I should tip you for your advice," Castiel said as Adam rose, reaching into his pocket again. Adam waved him away with a dismissive look.

"Don't bother, man. Just tell Gabriel I said 'Hi'." Castiel blinked at him for a moment and Adam smiled. "I used to hang out with the guy when I was younger. I'm his…" He paused, thinking; "Brother's ex-wife's sister's son. Yeah, that sounds about right." He smiled again, tipping his hat to Castiel as he put it back on. "See you around, and I hope it works out with…?"

"Dean."

"Dean. Good luck, man." Then, he was gone, and Castiel rose, looking at the half-eaten pizza that remained. He didn't know if Dean had eaten or had a lot of food in the apartment, so he left it behind and knocked on the door. When he came back in the morning to check if Dean was there, the pizza was gone and there was a little post-it on the door. There was only one word; 'Thanks', but it lifted Castiel's spirits for the rest of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**sarahlizzie** is the best beta ever.

**Author's Note: Here there be Michael/Lucifer flashback sex. It is technically incest in this 'verse. It's the italic part if you want to skip over it (:**

* * *

Dean and Castiel had their blowup on a Monday – the same day Sam dropped the bomb on Gabriel that he was going to his brother's court hearing a week that Wednesday. On Satuday afternoon the devil walked into the suite.

He was, all in all, a quite unassuming man. He was tall and a little built, but there wasn't any real distinctiveness about him – he had pale blue eyes, like they couldn't decide to just be blue or give up the fight and become completely white, and light blonde hair that was cut short with smatterings of a beard around his jaw – too long to be stubble but too short to just be unkempt. He was pale-skinned and perpetually smiling.

At his feet padded a large Australian shepherd, its sharp and intelligent as it gazed around Bobby's office with jaws parted from panting and ears quirked up. The man looked around but, finding no one in the office, decided to just get rid of all formalities and enter the main building.

There wasn't much space for recognizing a new comer on a busy shooting day, especially since the suite was notorious for taking in strays and anyone could be here one moment, gone the next. So no one gave the man or his dog a second glance – although one person did some up and offer him a coffee, because there's always one.

He managed to waylay a passing assistant, looking very flustered and overwhelmed, and fixed her with his most charming smile. "I'm looking for Gabriel," he said. "Can you tell me where he is?" The woman paused, flicking through many, many sheets on a clipboard (because he has the kind of luck that he'll manage to grab the one person with the entire schedule) and then pointed back the way he'd come, down a corridor that branched sideways of the second door to Bobby's office, and where the roleplaying-type films were made. He thanked her and moved on, his companion trotting amiably by his side.

"_I have the kielbasa you ordered."_

"_Polish?"_

"Hung_arian." _

There – that was definitely his brother's voice. Granted, he was trying to put on a very…weird…accent, but that was Gabriel alright. The man stopped outside the slightly cracked door, knowing that they were filming and knowing him he'd probably just waltz right onto the fake set and interrupt. Not that he wasn't opposed, but still. There are etiquette laws.

After a few minutes of over-exaggerated sexual noises (and believe me, he just _loved _listening to that) someone yelled 'Cut', and there was rustling, and he figured it was safe enough to enter.

Turns out the door led to the back of the room, away from the cameras and set (because sometimes people are stupid enough to walk onto a live recording), and afforded him a view of the raised 'hotel room' that had been set up at one end, Gabriel perched on it and scratching absently at his 'moustache', that kept getting peeled away by his fingers. Every now and again he'd growl and force it back onto his face, where it would only start itching again, and the cycle would continue.

Again, the man flagged down an assistant. "Could you please let Gabriel know that his brother is here to see him?" he asked with another million dollar smile, and the girl blinked at him – because even the newest newbie knew about Gabriel's relationship with his family – but nodded and went to retrieve the porn star who was about to begin another cycle with his fake moustache.

Gabriel's eyes widened when the girl talked to him, but immediately he flagged his brother out of the crowd. He was over to the man in less than half a minute. "_Lucifer?"_ he hissed, torn between ripping his brother a new one for disappearing for all these years, and hugging the ever-loving crap out of him. "What the _fuck _are you doing here?"

Lucifer smiled and drew Gabriel away. The man went, if reluctantly. "I go by 'Nick', now, Gabriel," he said, wanting to make that perfectly clear – "And I heard about Michael. I've been in town for a few days and I wanted to see my little brother before going to his hearing."

"You would have seen us both there," Gabriel grit out; now that the shock had worn off, he was definitely pissed. Anger was winning out. "What the hell, man?" he growled, jabbing his big brother in the chest. "I don't get a word from you – a call, a fucking _postcard, _nothing – and yet you just drop into town for our older brother's pedophilic tendencies. Where have you been living, anyway?"

Lucifer – Nick – paused. "Australia," he said after a moment, gesturing to his dog as though for confirmation. "I've been living in Australia for about two years now."

"You came from _Australia?" _Gabriel repeated in disbelief, fists clenching by his sides. "The _fuck, _man?"

"I thought you hated me," Lucifer replied, voice low. "You did hate me. How could I ever face you, when you pretty much couldn't even look at me after what you saw? _You _left first, Gabriel. I may have moved out before you did, but you abandoned this family way before I even thought about it."

Gabriel paused, eyes wide with shock at Lucifer's – because he would always be 'Luci' to Gabriel – confession, his harshly whispered accusations, before shaking his head. "I never hated you, Lucifer. I hated _him. _I…God, what I saw -."

"I wanted it, Gabriel," Lucifer replied, just as softly, aware that they were in a crowded room talking about incest. "I loved him, and he loved me too, but he wouldn't touch me after you found out. He thought you hated him; that you hated _both _of us, and he refused to touch me, or speak to me when no one else was in the room." Lucifer smiled, and it was the saddest damn thing Gabriel's ever seen. "That's why, when you came here, he was so angry with you. What _you _were doing…it's almost as bad, Gabriel – worse, in some ways, because at least Michael and I loved each other. This," he gestured vaguely around them, "well, I knew you were slumming it but," he raised his hands in front of him, wrinkling his nose, "I hope you didn't catch anything."

Gabriel smirked slightly. "You think Michael loved you – you're wrong. All he loves is his business and his money. He just wanted a piece of ass and you were the closest target." He stepped forward, jabbing Lucifer in the chest again with his forefinger. "The two of you stopped being my family a long time ago, so why are you here?"

"To make things right."

"Shitty way of doing it, Luci."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me how to make it right."

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're my brother."

"No!" Gabriel growled, shaking his head vehemently. "You both stopped being my brothers the night I walked in on you fucking." They were drawing attention, but Gabriel couldn't help himself. "If Michael was here I'd rip him a new one too."

"You disloyal -."

"Oh, I'm loyal," Gabriel snapped, cutting him off as he shifted his weight and stepped away, signaling this conversation was over. "But not to you. My family's here, now, and I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs." He took another step back, towards the camera crew who were trying desperately not to look like they were watching and failing miserably. "I think it's best if you leave now, _Nick." _

Lucifer was practically shaking with rage, fists clenched by his sides, but he said nothing – merely turned and stalked out of the room. Gabriel released the breath he'd been holding and turned to the director. "Hey, Baldur," he said, clapping the guy on the shoulder, "is it okay if I take a minute?"

Baldur's eyes narrowed as he glared at the shaken man, but shrugged. "Fine," he huffed in his most petulant tone, one that easily grated on Gabriel's nerves – the men had hated each other from the get-go when Gabriel had kinda-sorta been after Baldur's girlfriend – now wife. That was, of course, before Sam came along. "I want you back here in ten minutes."

Gabriel smiled, and nodded, and left the room to catch his breath, because he'd never imagined a reunion with Lucifer would have gone so _badly. _He'd never imagined having a reunion _at all. _He dialed Sam's cell, pleased when the man answered on the second ring.

"Gabe? What's up?" Sam's voice was tight with concern – poor kid had been so high strung since his brother had pretty much shut himself off from the outside world, and Gabriel's attitude probably hadn't been helping – but what the hell, he's allowed to be selfish every now and then. He'll make it up to Sam.

Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I want to see you today," he said, because if he stayed at the studio all day he wouldn't see Sam until late that night, and he couldn't have that. "Come have lunch with me this afternoon. Please?"

"Sure thing, Gabriel," Sam replied, voice soft and understanding as it always was. "What happened?"

"I'll talk about it when you get here. Just come."

"I will."

"Thanks, Sammy."

* * *

Dean woke up to a gentle knocking on his front door. He was exhausted – he hadn't been able to sleep in his bed, because he was acting too much like an emo bitch and couldn't handle the memories, the smell of Castiel in there. He only managed to go into his bedroom for clothes and to go to the en-suite bathroom. He was, basically, this close to grabbing a pint of Ben and Jerry's, crying and listening to Taylor Swift.

So, instead, he put on his favorite Zeppelin album, playing it as loud as he could bear and ignoring his phone and television. Reading books he'd not touched since he was sixteen, he was withdrawing into himself and he knew that, but he couldn't stand it…every time he thought about what Castiel had done, he kept getting damn close to tears.

The computer, though, was never switched off. Religiously he watched the site's new videos, making sure his friends and (ex)boyfriend were okay from a distance. The number of videos including Castiel and Sam had dropped dramatically, but there were still a few, and he watched them with the madness of a stalker.

Rationally, he knew that Castiel was sorry. The man hadn't been lying about that. But _still…_why would have done it? _Closure? _What the fuck did that mean?

He hadn't been eating well. He'd wake up and make sure Castiel wasn't up, and just order from shitloads of different take-out places, stocking up for the day, because he didn't have any intention of Castiel ambushing him in a diner, with witnesses. Dean wasn't above making a scene but he'd rather not.

And, as previously mentioned, he hadn't been sleeping well. One, two hours at a time at most. So when he woke up to someone knocking at the door, he was too exhausted and surprised to remember that Castiel had practically camped out outside his home and that was probably him now, but when he peeked through the peep hole, it wasn't Castiel's face he saw.

It was _her._

"Jo?" he breathed, opening the door quickly and looking around, expecting Castiel to be hovering around, because there was no way she'd just…_dropped in. _He hurriedly invited her in, closing and locking the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow at the state his place was in, and then turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Nice to see you too, Dean. You know, not from a distance." Dean flushed a little, knowing she'd known he'd been at the Roadhouse, watching. She sighed and looked back around his place. "It's been a while. Almost five years."

_Four years, seven months, two weeks and four days, but who's counting? _Dean thought to himself, watching with eagle eyes as Jo wandered around his place, absently picking up discarded books and DVDs and putting them back in their proper places, opening windows and curtains as she went. "What are you doing?" he asked, and wow, was that his voice? It sounded like he'd been gargling nails.

Jo shrugged, turning his stereo off so that the apartment was no longer filled with _'Ramblin' On'_. "Castiel met Adam last night, and Adam came to the Roadhouse. I heard him talking about you. Or at least, he mentioned your name, and I thought I'd come over and see if you were okay," she said with a shrug as though this type of thing were completely normal. The apartment was flooded with midday light as she opened all the curtains, and Dean felt blinded. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. "Now tell me what's up."

Dean blinked, giving her an appraising look. She'd grown up since he almost killed her; she was in good shape, with figure hugging jeans and a long-sleeved turtle neck for the weather, a half-length leather jacket over that. "Nothing," he said, slightly more emphatically than necessary. "Just a lover's spat."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly saying she didn't buy his bullshit. "What happened, Dean?"

"Castiel just…did something. Something that could have been…really bad."

"Wow. Precise."

"Shut up, Jo," he snapped at her, in no mood for her sarcasm.

She cocked her head to one side. "I'm just trying to help," she said, sounding hurt.

Dean sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face. "I know. I know you are. Castiel just…almost made me Dom someone. I can't…not since…" He paused, gesturing at her with a stricken look on his face. "He almost made me do it again."

"Almost?" she repeated, perching lightly on the back of the couch, legs folded up and braced with her feet against the leather half-way down, arms folded in front of her, fingers laced. "How could he almost make you? You changed your contract after, right?"

Dean nodded, "But I _told _him. I _trusted _him with everything, Jo. I…I gave him everything –," and didn't _that _just make him feel like a virgin girl and a half? "– and he just took that and turned it against me. His suggestion almost made the top twenty, and Adler would have made me do it – you know he would have." Jo nodded, biting her lip in sympathy. "And I can't…not after what I did to you. I can't do it again." He rubbed his face again, blinking away the tears he could _feel, _but couldn't stop if his life depended on it.

Jo cocked her head to one side. "You're guilty."

"No shit," he snapped, defensive as he pushed himself forward from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, grabbing a beer from the fridge and offering one, putting it back when she shook her head. "I almost _killed _you, Jo. Of course I'm guilty."

"Are you guilty because of what you almost did, or because you want to do it again?" Jo asked, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore. Dean's shoulders tensed, but the man forced himself to swallow his beer, outwardly as calm as he could be. "It's alright to still want that, Dean. Just don't lose control again."

Dean smirked. "That's not what Castiel said."

"When you're _Domming, _Dean," Jo corrected, standing and shrugging off her jacket. "It's okay once in a while, you know."

"Jo," Dean said, looking as Jo laid the jacket down on the back of the couch and went for her shirt. "What are you doing?" He stepped away from her, unnerved because yeah, he might be going through a break-up, but he was _not _a rebound guy.

"You know," Jo said, crossing her arms over her stomach and catching the hem with her fingers, pulling upwards. Dean was relieved to see there was a tank top underneath the long sleeve shirt. "I kept wearing these damned long-sleeved things…" Her voice became slightly muffled as she drew it over her head. "I used to because I was ashamed, because I looked awful and I wasn't pretty anymore to a lot of people, and I didn't even want to try anymore." Again, guilt washed through Dean. She tossed the shirt away too, revealing her pale, bare arms that were crisscrossed with thin white lines down to her elbows. Her wrists bore a tiny scar from the skin grafts they'd had to give her because she'd rubbed all her layers of skin raw, struggling for freedom from Dean's restraints. "And then it was because I was afraid. Not for me, though, for you." Her bright eyes flashed to Dean. "My mother was still out for you blood and I didn't want to keep reminding her, and if someone got too curious they could find out about you, and the cops could get involved or something, despite the fact that I didn't press charges." Dean swallowed, knowing that that was true – he'd been questioned rigorously by the police the night of Jo's almost-murder, and couldn't imagine what would have happened for him if she'd actually decided to persecute him.

"But I actually forgave you a long time ago, Dean," she continued, rubbing over the scars from the skin grafts with a light touch. Dean knew her back looked a hell of a lot worse than her arms, and grimaced slightly at the fresh memories of what she'd looked like when he'd…God… "Almost instantly, actually. I never resented you, not once, and I think that…I'm tired of wearing these long-sleeved shirts. I'm not ashamed, and I'm not afraid anymore." She spread her arms out wide, smiling at Dean. "I just wanted you to know."

"How can you forgive me for what I did to you? You almost _died, _Jo. I almost…I was a blow away from being your murderer," Dean said, voice thick around the lump that had formed in his throat, that he tried and failed to wash away with beer.

"But it _didn't, _Dean," Jo said, stepping forward and taking his hands in hers, dainty fingers rubbing soothing little lines on his calloused palms, her eyes staring imploringly into his; "You _didn't _kill me, and that suggestion _didn't _happen. You need to stop living in the fear of 'What If's, Dean, please. Got it?" she asked, flashing a little half-smile, and Dean was reminded distinctly of Ellen, just then, and he found himself smiling back.

"Maybe," he rasped, unable to deal with so much soul searching in one day. He coughed, clearing his throat, and stood up straighter. "Thanks, Jo, and tell Castiel that I'm glad he sent you."

"Oh, he didn't send me," Jo said, shrugging. "I just talked to him, but he didn't actually suggest I come here. That was all me." She grinned and winked at him, picking up her shirt and jacket and slinging it over one shoulder. "You gonna show me out?"

Dean smiled and opened the door for her, leaving it unlocked when he closed it again. His home phone was a lost cause – he'd have to buy a new one, but his cell was still fine. Turning it on he found several missed calls from both Gabriel and Castiel, but it was numbering in the low fifties with Sam. He swallowed back the feeling of guilt, knowing his brother was probably worried sick about him. He'd have to apologize for being such an asshole and just shutting himself off.

He wanted to take care of that, and let his brother at least know he was okay, but he couldn't do that over the phone. He didn't think he could handle seeing Castiel yet, but…okay, it was Saturday – wow, already? – and so it was technically his day off. Castiel's too. So he wouldn't be at the studio, which meant Dean would be able to go see his brother without having Castiel there too, and apologize for just abandoning him and shutting him out.

Yeah, he could do that.

Dean felt agoraphobic, staring out into the corridor his door opened to. He took a deep breath and went back inside, procrastinating with a shower and a shave, a fresh change of clothes that made him feel at least semi-human again, and he grabbed the keys to the Impala and just stormed out the door before he could think twice about it.

He didn't see Castiel in the corridor. Or in the elevator. Or sitting outside his car or even – yes, he checked – inside her. He was feeling so paranoid, knew he was acting like it, but he didn't particularly care, because to him it wouldn't be unlike Castiel to be hidden under the foot panel in his car or something, just waiting for him.

Dean peeled out of the parking lot before his thoughts could get the better of him, pulling up to the suite's parking lot within twenty minutes. He exited the car, only to have himself flattened by a…dog. A dog that was very efficiently licking his face; paws dug into his shoulders to keep him down. Dean sputtered and pushed the animal to one side, grinning slightly, because he kind of had a soft spot for animals – but don't tell anyone that. The animal had bright blue eyes and a mottled black-white-brown coat, wagging its back end ferociously to make up for the fact that it didn't have a tail, and barked at him, down on its forelegs and practically vibrating in excitement.

"Um…hey there, buddy," Dean said, for lack of anything else, rubbing at the top of the dog's head and grinning when it rolled onto its back immediately, and let Dean rub its stomach with the kind of overly excited contentment that only dogs are capable of portraying without words. "Where's your owner, eh?" The dog was uncollared, but way too well cared for to be a stray.

Footsteps came closer, and the sun was blocked out as a man towered above the pair. "I'm so sorry," Nick said, kneeling down to grab the dog's attention. It barked in recognition, promptly burying its nose in Nick's side, butt wagging still very excitedly. "He doesn't get out much," he said apologetically. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Nah," Dean said, grinning as he stood and dusting himself off. "Just playing. It's a beautiful animal."

"Thanks," Nick replied, smiling as he also stood. "I've had him for a long time." There was a pause, but neither man seemed really inclined to volunteer more information – what with Dean becoming socially retarded over the past few days and Lucifer not really interested in making friends. They smiled at each other and went their separate ways; Dean into the suite, and Lucifer had somewhere else to be.

Dean found Sam in Bobby's office, sprawled all over the large comfy orange couch with Gabriel in his arms, the older man looking like Dean felt – either wanting to run away and cry or hit something. Really hard. Several times. Sam looked up, eyebrows raising at his entrance. "How you feeling?" he asked, voice soft as he pet through Gabriel's hair like the man was a dozing baby that Sam was afraid of waking. Gabriel blinked and turned so he was lying on his back between Sam's legs, fixing Dean with his gaze as well.

"I'm alright," Dean said, feeling awkward about it as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry I've been such an asshole, refusing to talk to either of you."

"Although I completely understand, I'm also one inch away from punching you for worrying me so much. You're lucky Gabriel's on top of me." Dean smirked at his little brother.

"Again, I'm sorry…but I'm feeling a little better now," he said, and though it wasn't a total lie, it was also such a huge omission that it might as well be. "I just wanted to talk to you guys, and not over the phone."

"Castiel's not here," Sam observed, eyes dark.

Dean nodded. "I know."

Sam nodded as well, and then moved his leg – and the man on top of him – so that Dean would have room to sit with them on the couch. It wasn't much – just a small gesture – but it meant the world to Dean, who smiled and sat down. It was only then he noticed Gabriel's equally somber attitude; "What's up, man?"

Gabriel sighed. "My brother visited today. Lucifer." Dean cocked his head to one side, and Gabriel continued; "He's such an asshole, God…" Gabriel wiped hurriedly at his face, swiping away invisible tears before they could fall. "God, but what if…"

"It's not your fault, Gabe. You couldn't have known," Sam said, rubbing the older man's back like one would do an injured or sick child. Dean got the feeling he'd missed something big, here. "You couldn't have possibly known."

"But what if they _were?" _Gabriel asked, nose wrinkling just slightly. "I mean…what if I'm the reason they broke up, and why Michael is how he is?" And the tears did begin to fall then, and it was so out of place on the cocky, take-the-world-as-it-comes Gabriel that Dean knew that he honestly didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything, or just leave these two alone to themselves.

"…I don't know," Sam replied, sounding pained because if there's one thing Sam compulsively does, it's fix things. He's like Castiel in that way.

Dean shook the thought away before he could think anymore about his…about Castiel. He was trying to move on from it and that wouldn't happen if he kept pining.

Unfortunately, though, another of Sam's characteristics is to put his foot in his mouth and ask the wrong thing. "Are you going to talk to Castiel, Dean? I mean…I know what he did was awful – horrible, considering – but he was just trying to help, in a really stupid, fucked up way. He loves you – he was a mess after you threw him out, and I'm sure Gabriel and I didn't help. Just…at least talk to him?"

"I do talk to him," Dean snapped back in defense, folding his arms over his chest. Well, if by talk you mean leave a post-it note every now and again, but he couldn't stand looking at Castiel right now. Still. It pained him to even watch his videos. "And I see him every day."

"You're avoiding him," Sam accused.

"No, I'm not."

"Look," Sam growled, rolling his eyes and using his 'this is going to happen' tone. "Gabriel and I are going to Michael's court hearing on Wednesday, and we want you to come too. You _and _Castiel, and you're going whether you like it or not, so you need to be able to at least act civil around him by then." Sam couldn't exactly get up and storm out, what with Gabriel still sitting in his lap, but he still managed to make the words pretty final. Dean felt like he was going to get dragged there kicking and screaming if he refused, so he shrugged and nodded.

Besides, it would be satisfying to see the guy responsible for ruining Castiel's life put away for his hypocritical crimes.

* * *

_Thanksgiving, 1993_

"_Michael…" Lucifer's touch was fire along his older brother's skin, igniting things in Michael that he thought he'd gotten rid of. He'd never get tired of Lucifer's touch, or his lips, or the feeling of his body, muscled from field hockey training and toned lean from many hours that he ran in the mornings, coming back sweaty and limber and so fucking gorgeous that it's all Michael can do not to have him right then. "Fuck, Michael, please…"_

"_Just a second, baby, gimme a minute," Michael said, turned on beyond belief at the way Lucifer is so wanton, so desperate for him. It gave him a power thrill unlike anything else. He managed to shove the door open to his bedroom, the two teenagers stumbling inside and slamming the door closed, so the room was thrown into blackness again. The only light came from a sliver from the outside waxing crescent that fell on the bed, painting the blue walls in eerie silver. He shoved Lucifer back, onto the bed. "God, look at you…"_

_He fell onto his younger brother, immediately claiming his lips and silencing any sound Lucifer might have made that would have given them away. After all, Gabriel and their mother were in the house too and they couldn't get caught. They wouldn't understand this type of thing._

_Lucifer whined when Michael pulled away, grasping desperately for his invisible brother as Michael began to undress them, pulling off their clothes as quickly and quietly as he could, eager – desperate – to touch his brother after weeks without physical contact past a hug or shoulder nudge. His hands mapped out the familiar territory, taking in scars Lucifer had gotten from his children and remembering with a soft smile every incident, every booboo he'd had to kiss better and every ounce of worry over his brother's safety he'd felt whenever Lucifer was in trouble. Michael sighed lightly, pressing a soft kiss over his little brother's heart and closing his eyes when Lucifer shook below him._

_Michael undid their pants next; first his, then he slowly peeled off Lucifer's as he kicked off his own, glad that both of them had gone commando and it was one less thing for him to worry about. His hands grabbed for Lucifer's thighs, spreading them so he could settle between them, kissing his sibling breathless until both their lips were red and swollen, Lucifer's long-ish hair flared out around him like a fucking halo, and Michael just has time to think 'He's beautiful' before desire swallows him whole again, and he's lost._

_Lucifer reached to one side, fumbling through Michael's top drawer until he found the lube, grabbing it and handing it to his big brother with trust in his eyes. Lucifer rarely bottomed, and with the weeks of separation they've had, he was going to be even tighter than usual, so this would hurt. Michael, though, had that all taken care of. He kissed Lucifer fiercely, muffling his groans against his big brother's swollen and full lips as he squirted the lube onto his fingers, slicking them up. He ran his hand over Lucifer's opening, noting how his little brother tensed at the thought of being intruded again, and Michael shushed him with gentle caresses, taking his leaking cock in hand and pumping him effortlessly, smoothly, lubricant and precome slicking the way until Lucifer was relaxed enough to try again. Michael pushed in up to the first knuckle, stopped, stroked, and pushed in further. Lucifer was suffocatingly tight and warm, and Michael groaned at the thought of that tight heat wrapped around his cock, which was a hard line against Lucifer's thigh were Michael unconsciously bucked into him, desperate for friction._

"_Michael," Lucifer muttered, though the sound was muffled and came out more as a mangled syllable as Lucifer grabbed his brother's shoulders, wrapping his legs around him and relaxing as Michael pushed in a second finger, scissoring without delay, twisting his wrist in an expert way to make Lucifer buck and moan and tremble underneath him, as responsive then as he was the very first time they did this. "God, _fuck, _love you, Michael."_

_Michael smiled, because the only time Lucifer completely loses control is when he's like this. "Love you too, little brother," he said, purring the words because he knows Lucifer gets off on the kinky _wrongness_ of what they're doing. Michael pushed in just a little deeper, crooking his fingers at the perfect angle to hit Lucifer's prostate, and the wrecked cry came out before either of them could stop it. "Shush, Luci, you have to be quiet," Michael admonished gently, nipping his jaw but careful not to leave a mark behind that could raise questions._

"'_M sorry," Lucifer whispered out, wrapping his arms around Michael like his big brother was the only thing keeping him grounded._

"_Bull shit," Michael replied affectionately, before pulling his fingers out. "You think you're ready for me?" he asked, already slicking himself up with the rest of the lube, then adding some more for good measure because as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too much prep when it came to Lucifer._

"_Yeah…yeah, fuck me, Michael." And Michael had to fight back the urge to come just from that as he grabbed onto Lucifer's hips, angling the younger man upwards before placing a pillow underneath to take some of the strain off his shoulders and back, and then he pushed in, slowly – too slowly for either of them – sinking inside his little brother as though he'd just been there minutes ago. Lucifer's body opened for him, the younger man shaking and sweaty but already looking so damn satisfied that Michael can't even ask if he's alright, because his eyes say it all. _

"_Fuck, Lucifer," Michael ground out, hands clawing at Lucifer's shoulders as he pulled out, then thrust back in with force, jolting the both of them, and the headboard knocked gently on the wall. "God, missed you so fucking much…" He thrust again, and again, Lucifer clinging to him like a limpet and making the most delicious little noises of pleasure, trying to keep silent and not quite managing it. Michael reached down, wrapping a hand around Lucifer's cock because he's not going to last long, and he has plans for his little brother before he comes. "Come on, baby, come for me, but be quiet."_

_And Lucifer did. So easily. The thrill of getting caught, and the feeling of Michael inside of him after so long, and the knowledge that any minute Gabriel or their mother could walk in on them just ramped him up, that undercurrent of needy arousal he'd been suffering through since Michael came home for Thanksgiving coming to a heady climax that had him biting down on his forearm to keep from shouting, the only sound being a long, muffled groan against his skin as he bit down hard enough to taste blood and the salt of his sweat, looking up into Michael's hazel-green eyes as his big brother threw his head back, lost in the sensation of Lucifer clenching around him, already tight heat becoming so much tighter and hotter that Michael felt like he couldn't even pull out – Lucifer was doing all he could to keep him inside._

_Lucifer almost whimpered when Michael pulled out of him with a low, soft squelch, still rock hard and leaking precome from the tip of his flushed, red cock. At Lucifer's questioning look, Michael smirked, and gestured for him to sit up. Michael quickly stood so his cock was level with Lucifer's mouth, knotting his hands through Lucifer's thick, long hair, and the younger brother smiled as Michael fed him his cock, lips parting easily – eagerly – as Michael slid into his mouth. He smelled like musk and lube and Michael, and tasted even better, and Lucifer moaned lowly when Michael's hands tightened on his head, tilting it to one side to get a better angle and started fucking slowly into Lucifer's mouth, not letting him have any say in how he sucked Michael off, just like they both loved it._

_Michael grunted, gritting his teeth when he came, hands clenching to the point of pain on Lucifer's head as he made the younger teen swallow, still fucking in slowly in short, shallow thrusts until he was spent, then pulled out and let Lucifer's head drop, breathing heavily._

_They didn't see Gabriel hovering at the door, looking through the partial opening, but boy did Gabriel see them. He wouldn't barge in right then, because that was sick and though he felt like he should stop it, he would also be more comfortable in broad daylight, with their mother gone already because she leaves a full hour before the boys go to school, and then Gabriel would confront them. He had nightmares about Michael raping Lucifer for a long while after that.

* * *

_

"He's through here," the guard said, gesturing into a plain cement-block-built room full of several circular tables designed for interaction time between the prisoners and their family. Lucifer went to the unoccupied table farthest from the rest, where a man in a bright orange jumpsuit was sitting, leaning casually in his chair as though he didn't expect anyone to come and didn't particularly care either way.

That's why Michael jumped when he heard a chair being scraped back next to him, and turned to look at – "Lucifer," he breathed, eyes widening in complete disbelief.

Lucifer smiled. "Hello, big brother."


	12. Chapter 12

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**sarahlizzie** is the best beta ever.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, torn between happiness at seeing the little brother that could have been dead for all he knew, and wanting to punch Lucifer right in his calmly smiling face. "It's been…"

"Years, I know," Lucifer replied, sitting down next to Michael, a little too close for a casual, platonic visit but not so close as to be obvious about it. "I heard you were in the slammer and I thought I'd drop by." He looked around, taking in the blank, bare room like there was something to take in. "Really," he added casually, "I knew you had a penchant for teenage boys but -."

"Oh, fuck you."

Lucifer smirked at him. "I believe that was your job." A pause – then, because Lucifer really couldn't help himself; "Has anyone made you their bitch yet?" Michael's eyes narrowed at him, glaring in an expression that was so like their father that for a moment Lucifer couldn't say anything else. "I'm just here to make sure you're alright," Lucifer said, softening as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the table. "You are okay, right? You're getting out of here?"

Michael nodded; "My lawyers already have a case for me. I don't think I'll be in here long. Community service hours at worst. Maybe a fine." He shrugged, because things like this were very easily smoothed over and it's not like he didn't have time to kill or money to spend. Then, Michael's eyes flashed over to the guards, then back to Lucifer; "What are you, to me, here?" he asked, lowering his voice as he, too, leaned forward, the brothers inches from each other now.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you my family, here? A friend? _What are you to me?" _Michael asked, voice desperate almost, and Lucifer's eyes widened as he realized what Michael was asking. He sat back abruptly, all pretense of closeness gone.

"That ship sailed a long fucking time ago, _brother,_" he hissed, harshly enough that Michael actually flinched, cheeks flushed in shame as he looked down. "Right now, I'm a friend. Maybe even your brother. I'll never be more than that again." With that, he stood, ignoring the little lump that formed in his throat at Michael's dejected look – he wasn't here to be played around with again. Yes, he'd loved Michael, but Michael had made it pretty damn clear that what they had wasn't going to happen again. So, he left, and ignored the way his big brother kept trying to call him back, stopped by guards that were willing to haul him away if necessary.

* * *

The next day, on a Sunday, Dean was meant to be in work. In fact, he'd tried to go into work. He'd failed. He'd almost made it there – gotten up, dressed, ready. He'd packed up a spare change of clothes and taken a shower and had, like, four cups of coffee. He'd turned the Impala on and driven her right up to his favorite parking space and slid right on in, and then…he'd seen Castiel. It's not like he had been waiting for Dean or anything. Castiel had just been getting out of his own car and heading towards the doors to the building like he hadn't seen Dean – though really, Dean had a pretty ostentatious car so the likelihood of _that _was slim to none – and Dean couldn't do it. He physically could not make himself get out of the car.

It said something about his mental state that just one look at the man had him near-collapsing.

But, _God, _he missed Castiel.

The way he smelled, and tasted, and the noises he'd make. Dean missed the way he could just…come up to Castiel and the man would smile at him in that weird way like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking…He missed the way that Castiel could say something – anything – and it would just make Dean feel all warm inside. He missed the way that Castiel always made him feel like such a preteen girl, and didn't think him silly for it, and the way that he also made Dean so high with the power over Castiel that it was like a drug.

He _missed _Castiel. Like air.

And Dean couldn't go inside that building, because knowing his luck he'd have to do a video with Castiel and he wouldn't be able to stay angry. Because he _was _still angry, damn it, and what Castiel had done was…_not _something he should feel pressured to forgive. Dean just couldn't get past the betrayal of it – he'd _told _Castiel, under duress on top of that, why he couldn't…do that. He couldn't lose control again. Ever.

He drove home, and his cell went off a few hours later. It was Castiel. Dean sighed, because although he wanted nothing less than to hear that man's voice (because he knew if Castiel started begging he'd probably cave) Sam did demand that he at least get to the point where they could be civil to each other. He picked up.

"Yeah, Cas," he said, making it sound more like a sigh than anything else.

"Hello, Dean," came Castiel's reply, sounding so stilted and formal and so fucking like _home _that Dean damn near collapsed onto his couch. "It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah," Dean replied, because he was thinking the exact same thing. "Yeah, yours too." What could a little honesty hurt? "I saw you at the studio today."

"I didn't see you."

"I didn't…technically come in," Dean answered, feeling a little stronger now – enough to go get himself a beer because he needed to not be sober to keep this conversation up without just breaking down and begging for Castiel back. "But I saw you. I'm still pissed at you." It needed to be said.

"I know."

"I don't know if I can forgive you."

A pause, then; "I know, but I am sorry."

Dean shook his head, despite the fact that Castiel couldn't see him; "Stop saying that. I don't want apologies. But…" He clenched his fist around the beer bottle, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he opened it and then took the phone back into his hand. "I miss you. A lot. And Sam's gonna kick my ass if there's no effort on my part, so…" He broke off, taking a swig of his beer. "Maybe we could go have lunch? As friends?"

"How about…" Castiel began, and Dean's heart began to sink; "You just open the door, and let me in? I have pizza."

Dean had to blink at that, and almost did a double take towards the door as though it would suddenly become invisible so he could see Castiel through it. "You're here?" he asked, not sure whether he was angry that Castiel had taken to stalking him again, or insanely happy that he didn't have time to wait and freak out while Castiel came over.

"I'm here now," Castiel replied, and just on cue there was a knock at the door. Dean had a weird horror-movie moment where he stared at the door like it was going to eat him, then hastily went over and opened it. The two men stared at each other, phones to their ears, before Castiel smiled slightly and said; "I'm going to hang up now, Dean."

"Right," Dean replied, closing his phone and shoving it into his pocket before he stepped aside, letting Castiel in. The man looked…well, he always looked fantastic, but there was a tiredness in his eyes that Dean hadn't seen before their fight, and his shoulders were just a little hunched over like he was bracing himself for a blow. His normally bright eyes were dull, already messy hair in complete disarray now, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner.

True to his word, Castiel had pizza. A large meat lover's, in fact – Dean's favorite – which he set on the kitchen counter, looking around the apartment and wondering if it had changed since the week he'd been there last.

"I tried going home during my lunch break, and Uriel practically hauled me outside again, telling me I needed to get my act together and at least get you to talk to me," Castiel said softly, and Dean felt kinda guilty about that, but not enough to apologize for it. Castiel's eyes met his; "I'm glad you're okay. You look…good." Dean grimaced slightly, knowing that that was probably far from the truth – he felt like hell. Castiel sighed, realizing Dean wasn't going to speak any time soon, and opened the pizza box, turning it Dean's way. The younger man finally managed to kick his body into motion, grabbing paper plates from a cupboard, along with a second beer for Castiel, which he opened and handed to the other man. Their fingers skimmed over each other as the beverage was passed, and Dean shivered noticeably. It was torture to be so close and unable to touch. He'd never had to do that before.

Dean distracted himself with the pizza, getting a slice for himself and watching as Castiel grabbed one too. This was…awkward. But kinda nice. Domestic, even. In a weird way. "Um…movie? TV? How long do you have?" Dean asked, cocking his head towards Castiel.

The man smiled very slightly. "I have an hour," he said, swirling his beer around in the bottle before taking another swig. "And there's a game on." His eyes flashed to Dean's, a mix of cautious hope and anticipation warring in his eyes. "Maybe we can watch the second half or something."

"I'd like that," Dean replied, smiling and heading over to the couch, taking the pizza and two more beers with his bottle opener with him. Castiel followed silently, taking a spot three-quarters of the way down the couch. Dean sat on the other end, a little further away than strictly necessary, and far enough away that Castiel felt the separation like cold nail in his heart. He sighed, wishing now more than ever he hadn't been so stupid and cavalier about his relationship with Dean, and wishing that he hadn't even thought of suggesting that stupid scenario for the site.

"Will you come into work tomorrow?" Castiel asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice as Dean surfed through the channels, switching on a baseball game that was just finishing the seventh inning. Castiel took another bite of pizza, washing it down with the cold beer that was much more bitter than what he usually drank, watching the game without really taking it in, his body attuned to Dean more than anything else.

The younger man shrugged, hoisting up one leg so his heel was braced against the edge of the cushion, elbow on his knee and beer bottle hanging loosely in his fingers by his calf. His head fell back against the high back cushion, exposing his throat as he swallowed, eyes focused on the ceiling. "I don't know," he answered after a moment. "I should. I know I should. And Sam is making me go to the court hearing on Wednesday, so I should at least go in to tell Chuck I won't be in on that day, but…" He trailed off, sighing again slightly. "I don't know if I can…be around you."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, drowning in guilt. God, he just wanted to make it better. He didn't know _how _to make it better. It was driving him mad, the feeling that he was just self-sabotaging like he did in all his relationships curling like a leaden snake in his gut. "I wish I could fix this. I wish I hadn't done it – it's one of the biggest regrets of my life, Dean, please know that and believe it."

"I do believe it," Dean replied, voice bitter and sad. He huffed a laugh. "That's the problem. I _know _you regret doing it. So why did you? That's what I can't figure out." He turned his head, then, looking Castiel in the eye. "Do you even know the answer to that?"

Castiel blinked, his eyes going back to the TV, and answered that he didn't.

"Jo – the girl I almost killed – came to see me yesterday," Dean said, looking back up to the ceiling again in time for Castiel to turn his head, surprised. He shifted on the couch, facing more towards Dean and bringing his body just a little closer, subtly, so much so that if Dean noticed, he didn't comment. "She told me she forgave me. _Forgave _me, almost instantly, in fact," Dean said, shaking his head. "I have no idea how she did it. She trusted me, and I violated that, and turned it against her, and almost killed her with it. I took some secret part of her and used it against her, and almost destroyed her with it. And she forgave me." He blinked, coughing once to clear his throat before taking another swig of beer – the alcohol was loosening his tongue, creating a pleasant little fog in his brain. "That's what you did, you know. In my eyes. Not to the same extent, of course, but that's what you did – you took something I trusted you with and you just…But she forgave me, and I wonder if it makes me a horrible person that I can't find the will to forgive you. I want to, but I don't know if I can."

"You and Jo are not the same person," Castiel managed to choke out, his heart sinking just a little at every word – because Dean was comparing what Castiel had done to near-murder. "And physical wounds are a lot easier to heal, sometimes."

"Why do you keep making allowances for me?" Dean growled suddenly, turning and lifting his head to narrow his eyes at Castiel. "I'm being unreasonable. You _know _I'm being unreasonable – acting out and punishing you for something that didn't even happen – and you're not even angry. Don't you care?"

Castiel paused, frowning, the mood swing throwing him for a loop for a moment; "I was angrier at myself more than anything else," he confessed, aware that he was treading thin ice. "And as far as I'm concerned, you're allowed to act however you want. I don't have control over what you do, Dean." His voice lowered to a whisper, eyes dropping as he was unable to hold Dean's intense gaze. "I can't, and eventually I'll accept that."

There was an infinitely long pause, before Dean sighed and settled back. "Let's just watch the game, okay?" he asked, taking one more bite of his pizza slice. Castiel nodded, and neither of them spoke until it was time for Castiel to leave again. Dean showed him out with a small smile, and right before Castiel left the younger man threw his arms around him, holding him for just a moment longer than what was necessary between friends, and Castiel left feeling warm and just a little bit like things were getting better, slowly but surely.

* * *

"Sam," Castiel said by way of announcing his arrival back at the studio, striding up to where Sam was grabbing himself a coffee, without his significant other half plastered to him in some way – the younger Winchester turned to him, cradling the steaming mug in his hands; "What would you do if someone got mad at you for _not _being angry at their unreasonable attitude?"

Sam paused, raising first one eyebrow, then both as he deliberately stalled, blowing on his coffee to cool it down, then taking a sip, and then answering. "I take it you talked to Dean?"

"I don't know what to do," Castiel said, looking around and throwing his arms in the air desperately before his eyes went back to Sam and he seemed to deflate. "I don't know how to fix this – I want to, so damn badly, Sam, and I don't know how. Please, help me. You have to help me."

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he took another sip. "I don't owe you anything, Castiel – the only reason I'm willing to help is because you _do _make Dean happy when you're not fucking with his head."

"Please, Sam." Castiel was so desperate, so close to just outright getting on his knees in front of Sam and begging. He just wanted to have Dean back. "Please, I miss him so much. I _need _him, like breathing, Sam – it feels like I…I can't exist when he's angry at me."

Sam was smiling. "I think you need to tell _him _that, don't you?"

Castiel paused. "It sounds like you want me to _guilt _him into loving me again. I can't do that to him, Sam – I don't want to mess with his emotions and his mind anymore. I love him. I've never felt like this before, and I can't…when we're in the same room…it's all I can do to _not_ touch him. I need to touch him again."

Sam straightened with a sigh. "Tell. Him. That."

"I…"

"Listen, Cas," Sam interrupted with another sigh, setting his cup of coffee down before he turned back to the smaller man, placing his hands on his shoulders so that Castiel had no option but to meet his eyes. "Dean loves you, okay? He wouldn't still be angry if he wasn't. One of you has to make the first move and it sure as hell isn't going to be him. Now pull your head out of your pitying ass and clear the air."

Castiel frowned. "I tried that."

"Bringing pizza and just letting him talk isn't clearing the air, Cas," Sam said, straightening and letting Castiel go, and the man fleetingly wondered how Sam even knew that he'd done that. "Just make him civil by Wednesday, alright?"

"What if I can't?" Castiel whispered, his voice betraying the hopelessness he felt.

"Try harder."

* * *

Dean had cleaned up his apartment a bit since Castiel left that afternoon – he'd gone through all the rooms (_all _of them) and cleaned them out. The apartment looked like it had just been moved into – there were even boxes. Castiel knocked carefully on the door and it swung open because Dean had kept it open and unlocked to encourage air circulation between the windows and door. Dean came in from the bedroom, carrying what looked suspiciously like bathroom cleanser, and stopped, staring at him.

"Sam, Gabriel and I were going to the Roadhouse after work, and I was wondering if you would join us," Castiel said, coming up with the lie on the spot and really hoping that Sam and Gabriel didn't have plans because that would just make him look like a jackass. Dean paused, setting the cleanser down on the kitchen counter, still staring at Castiel, and then finally nodded.

"Yeah, sure, I'll go. When are you leaving?"

"Sam and Gabriel finish in a few hours. I just wanted to give you time to…What _are _you doing?" Castiel asked, his eye being caught by a large box near Dean's DVD/book shelf, half-full of movies and books. Castiel went over and began to sift through it, forgetting himself and the fact that he wasn't exactly welcome here for a moment.

Dean shrugged, coming up behind him for a moment as he thumbed aside a couple of movies, then moved away again as he picked up a pile of dirty sheets and laundry that would go into the next load – because he was lucky enough to have a washer-drier combo _in _his apartment and didn't have to use the communal one. "Just getting rid of some things."

"Why?" Castiel asked, unable to fight the insane notion that Dean was moving away and leaving town without a word.

"Because I don't watch those movies anymore, or read those books. I just kept them because they take up room, but I don't need them and they can be put to better use elsewhere." Dean was a flurry of movement, never stopping and even as he spoke he added another DVD, as an afterthought. "I used to like them, or got them as gifts, and then I just never got rid of them despite the fact that there are perfectly good new movies that I love that can have their places on those shelves, and I didn't have room for because of all those ones that I don't need anymore. So…" He went back to grab the cleanser. "I'm getting rid of them."

Castiel paused, biting his lip as Dean moved away again, leaving him to his own devices, and he started rifling through the box. It wasn't large, but there were a lot of books and DVDs in it, and Castiel found himself fighting the insane paranoia that he would find the first movie they'd made together in amongst the 'old' things he didn't need anymore.

It wasn't there.

"Hey, Dean?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to where Dean was wiping dust off his windowsills using a wetted towel. The man nodded but didn't answer; "Where's the DVD we made?" It was a loaded question, and he knew it was, but Dean surprised him by just smiling a little and jerked his head towards the shelf.

Castiel looked to the shelf, searching out a white cover, and he found it right at eye level, exactly in the middle of the DVD's that had been left behind, which took up about three quarters of the space. He smirked a little to see that not only did Dean have the copy he had – the one not gaudy for the public – but the mass released version as well, right next to each other. He ran his fingers down the spine; a little knot easing in his chest that he hadn't known was there until he'd seen it.

Dean wasn't trying to throw him out.

Castiel sighed, and then turned around, to see Dean still cleaning. "I'll leave now, if you want," he said, feeling awkward as he'd essentially just invited himself into the home of a man with whom he didn't really know where he stood. Dean tensed slightly, looking over his shoulder at Castiel. "I'll see you at the Roadhouse."

"Wait," Dean said before he could stop himself, moving away from the window to stop Castiel leaving. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets for a moment before he looked around the apartment. "I could use some help moving this stuff. You know, if you're not busy or anything." He shrugged again, and Castiel grinned.

"I'd love to."

He spent the next hour cleaning Dean's apartment with him, and he had just enough time to actually _call _Sam and Gabriel to arrange the Roadhouse thing; Dean put on some rock album playing gently in the background as the two men worked until Dean's apartment looked almost like new, the boxed full of unwanted things stacked up by the door. "I'll load those in the Impala tomorrow…on my way to work," Dean said, eyes flashing to Castiel's for a moment then away. "For now we can take your car to the Roadhouse, if you drove here."

"I did," Castiel said, feeling like he was somehow fixing this without even realizing it. And he needed to stop thinking about _fixing, _because this was going well, for once, and he would do whatever he needed to so that Dean stayed at least his friend. He fished his keys out of his jeans as proof. "Shall we?"

Dean looked at himself – sweaty and dust-covered, because the day was hot and he'd been running around the apartment all day – and wrinkled his nose. "Let me change first," he said, going into his bedroom for a moment. Castiel waited patiently and ignored the fact that Dean had shut the door behind him to stop any spying. Though they were healing, he wasn't out of the woods yet. Dean came back out a few minutes later dressed in much of what Castiel suspected was his entire wardrobe; jeans, t-shirt and unbuttoned shirt over it, boots already put on and he'd splashed water on his face, scrubbing away the dirt that had gathered around his neck and face. He smiled slightly at Castiel, looking nervous as he sidled up to the door, pausing to let Castiel through first so he could grab his keys and wallet and lock up after.

"Lead the way, cap-i-tan," Dean said, gesturing towards the elevator that would lead down to the parking garage. Castiel shook his head;

"I parked out on the street. I didn't think I would be here long," he explained, heading instead to the elevator that led to the main entrance. Dean blinked, but if he had anything to say to that he kept it to himself, following Castiel into the elevator and punching the ground floor button. The ride down was awkward, especially considering what they'd been doing last time they were in an elevator together; Dean was flushed and fidgeting, torn between nervous and full of anticipation of the night ahead, because it would feel good to relax with Sam and Gabriel at the Roadhouse – where there were witnesses, you know.

Castiel's car was…well. It wasn't even a car. It was a van. An eight-seater mini van that was the epitome of soccer moms everywhere. Dean raised an eyebrow at the car when Castiel unlocked it, opening his door and catching Dean's eye. He flushed a little and shrugged; "My family was a big one, and since I was the baby I got the car when I grew up. Everyone else got their own."

Despite the fact that Dean felt incredibly domestic in the mini-van thing, the seats were very comfortable and they were _heated, _which counteracted the industrial strength A/C Cas had going, so it worked a few bonus points in the car's direction.

The next thing Dean raised his eyebrow at was Castiel's music choice; the man had a CD in, which was just finishing the chords to 'I'd Come For You' by Nickelback when the car started, and then began to play 'Crazy In Love' by Eminem. Dean could see no rhyme or reason to it, and looked to Castiel for explanation.

Castiel sighed. "My cousin decided I needed to get to know 'real music'. I find myself disagreeing with more of the song choices, but the radio's broken and I can't stand a silent car," he said unapologetically, making a left turn towards the final stretch.

Dean snorted; "Dude, I'm burning you a CD of _real _music so you can stop listening to…_this," _he answered, gesturing at the CD player as though the song it was playing was a physical taste in Dean's mouth and he was repulsed by it. "I almost feel the need to perform an exorcism on it or something."

Castiel chuckled. "I'm sure I shall enjoy your music much better." He pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, sliding in between a free space and a Volvo Station wagon and cutting the engine. "Ready?" he asked, perfectly happy to just stay in the car and talk or something, but that's not what they came here for and this casual banter was doing a lot for lifting both his and Dean's spirits – they were just two friends, hanging out, and it felt good.

Gabriel and Sam had already bagged them their favorite booth and Dean slid right in so Castiel could take the end, the older man sitting a respectful distance away. Dean's eye was drawn by the two extra chairs set up at the end of the booth and he jerked his head at them, catching Sam's attention; "Who're those for?" he asked, voice going hoarse as he tried to make himself heard above the music.

Sam grinned back at him, arm slung around the top of the booth, free hand curled around a beer. "Jo's coming to hang out and she's apparently got a new friend she wants to introduce to us." Dean blinked, because he didn't think they'd transferred to the hanging out stage after he and Jo had had that heart to heart only yesterday, but hey – more power to her.

"Hey, guys." That was Jo, and she looked…fabulous. Her long blonde hair was half-pulled up, letting soft curls fall a little around her face, the rest clipped away from her pale neck, and she wore a tight thigh-length dress that hugged her slim, toned body very nicely, with nylons and black heels to top it all off. There was a necklace with a tiny heart hanging down past the breast-line of the dress, and she waved at all of them before pulling out the chair, setting herself down. In the dim light of the Roadhouse her scars were practically invisible, but to Dean it was like they were painted in neon glowing paint, criss-crossing her skin and standing out to his guilty vision. "How's everybody?"

"We're good. Can I get you something to drink?" Sam asked, because he's always been a little smoother in uncomfortable situations.

Jo grinned and shook her head. "No. Adam's getting them."

Castiel paused for a split second, then his eyes widened, and he spoke at the same time as Dean; "_Adam?" _

Jo blushed, and smiled a little sheepishly. "He's such a sweetie, and he just came up to the Roadhouse like a little stray puppy and my mom got him a job with the pizzeria down the street. And he always hangs out around here so…" She shrugged.

"Good for you, Jo," Dean said, smiling a little as he reached across the booth, placing his hand over hers. She smiled back at him. "I'm glad. I'm sure he's a good kid."

"He is a good kid," Castiel added; "Though I'm wondering why you're making the sixteen-year-old get the drinks." There was muffled laughter around the table, and Dean had just enough time to realize that Sam and Gabriel didn't seem all that surprised – because Dean's been kept out of the loop long enough so he probably doesn't know all kinds of shit that's been going on – before aforementioned 'kid' showed up with four beers, two of which he slid over to Dean and Castiel, the third he handed to Jo before sitting down with his own. "Hello, Adam," Castiel said, raising his beer in greeting.

Adam grinned, his eyes going from Dean to Castiel and back again. "Hey man, how's it going?" he said, taking a swig of beer.

Castiel looked to Dean for a long moment – the man wasn't paying attention, wrapped up as he was with Sam filling him in on all that had been happening in the studio since he shut himself away – then back to Adam. "Better."

The rest of the night was whiled away in drinking (though not on Cas or Sam's part because they were the drivers) and merriment. They ended up staying at the Roadhouse way later than anyone had a right to, and Dean kissed Jo on the cheek before he left with Cas, getting a ride home since he'd been driven there, bidding Sam, Gabriel and Adam a good night.

When Castiel pulled up to Dean's apartment, he cut the engine and just sat, because Dean was swaying a little and he honestly doubted the man's ability to make it up to his apartment without falling, but Dean surprised him; he leaned over, catching Castiel's chin in his hand so the other man couldn't pull away, and slanted his lips across Castiel's. It was chaste, a little sloppy and tasted like beer and whiskey, but it warmed Castiel all over, and he was clutching back before he could stop himself, sighing into the kiss and the feeling of rightness that he always had around Dean.

The younger man pulled away too soon with a little giggle. "I'll see you tomorrow for work, Cas," he husked, voice whiskey-smooth and smoke-rough, and kissed Castiel one last time before he slid out of the car, grinning like the sun had come out after a long rain and everything was finally going right.

Maybe it was.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**[info]sarahlizzie is the best beta ever (:****  
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**First time writing phone sex. Be gentle. (: Also, I wrote this listening to Catholic 'Jesus' music. I'm a horrible person who will have lovely riverside property in Hell, feel free to join me!**

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Castiel had debated over actually helping Dean up to his apartment, because the guy looked unsteady on his feet and Castiel kinda doubted his ability to make it safely to his apartment. However, Dean managed to get into the front entrance, and the rest was an elevator, so…

Castiel was a block away from his building when his cell went off. He checked the caller ID before pulling over, seeing it was Dean. _What the… _"Hello?" he asked, a little unsure as he pulled into an available parking spot, unbuckling his seat belt and fully prepared for a long drunken conversation because he'd been on the receiving end of many prank/drunken phone calls from his roommate from college and parties that he hadn't gone to.

"Hey. Cas…" Dean sounded _wasted, _his voice a mixture between a low rumble and a gasp, and Castiel's libido _totally _didn't kick-start into action at that – because that was just inappropriate. "What's up?"

Oh. Wow. It was going to be one of _those _conversations. "Um…not much, Dean – what's up with you?" he asked, slouching a little in the seat, because he knew drunk people tended to ramble, and besides, even if they ended up talking about nothing, it was nice to hear Dean's voice…it was nice to be on the end of some affection, no matter how small an amount. "Are you in your apartment?"

"'M on my bed," Dean replied, with a little giggle, before his breath hitched in a sound that Castiel had become _very _intimate with over their time together. "Been thinking about you," he drawled, and Castiel shifted a little, hearing Dean's voice lower to a deep, bass rumble that was just rough and smooth and gritty and sexy as hell.

"R…Really?" Castiel stuttered, unsure what to do with himself. His pants felt tight, and God he was _not _going to listen to Dean on his phone while still in his car on the side of the street where _anyone _could see him. "As friends?" he asked, half-hopeful that Dean would just…fall in a coma. Or something. This was as uncomfortable as it was hot.

Dean chuckled – a low, beautiful sound that was music to Castiel's ears. "I don't think friends do what I'm thinking about doing to you right now…" Then, there was a low growl through the phone, and Castiel's breath hitched so hard he damn near choked.

Oh this was not happening. "And what are you thinking about doing to me, Dean?" Against his will, Castiel's voice was lowering; he sat up straighter in his car, rubbing himself through his jeans absently as he listened to Dean's breathing pick up on the other end of the phone. "Thinking about fucking me, want me underneath you, all moaning and begging for you, sweaty and desperate for it?"

"God, Cas…"

"Touch yourself, Dean, and imagine it's me," Castiel ordered, loving how Dean's breathing was heavy and uneven in his ear. He closed his eyes, hearing the creak of the bed and imagining he was pushing Dean down onto it, covering that beautiful golden body that he'd loved and missed so much. "Want you to run your hand up your chest – don't take anything off yet – and play with one of your nipples. Do it like I do; pinch one of them like I'm biting them, flicking and sucking until it's all red and sensitive and then I'm licking it with my tongue." Dean moaned low and long into the phone, and Castiel smirked a little. "Come on, Dean, tell me how you're feeling, right now."

Dean growled into the phone; "God, Cas, you feel so good, your _mouth. Fuck…" _Okay, so maybe the alcohol was affecting Dean's ability to speak, but that was okay, because Castiel had more than enough he wanted Dean to do, while he could;

"I'm trailing down now, Dean. I know where you want my mouth more – I'm licking and biting at you. God, love how you taste, Dean – love it like fucking air – and I'll undo your jeans really slowly – teasing you."

"God," Dean growled, "fucking tease."

"You love it," came Castiel's smooth reply, as the older man dug the heel of his palm into his erection to try and keep him orgasm at bay – just hearing Dean like this, all vulnerable and wanton from just his _imagined _touch, made him want to speed over to the man's apartment and make him Castiel's, all over again. "Now take your cock out, Dean, stroke yourself nice and slow for me." Dean's breath hitched again, and Castiel knew his orders were being obeyed, and he smiled against the phone. "What do you want, Dean? Want me to fuck you nice and slow, hmm? Get you all slick and open so that I can slide right in and fuck you until you can't move?"

"Cas…" Desperate then, Dean's voice was wrecked and he sounded so fucking _wanton. _"Fuck, _please…_Cas."

"Shh, Dean, it's alright," Castiel purred into Dean's ear, smiling as he heard the man whimper. "Take your jeans off for me, baby, let me see you. Are you wearing underwear?" he asked once the telltale sound of dropping clothes had stopped. Dean growled out a low 'No' and Castiel smirked; "Just a little eager slut for it, aren't you?"

"Fuck, _Cas…_Please, please fuck me. Need you so bad…"

"I know, Dean, I know." And there's no way to describe the warmth spreading through Castiel at Dean's broken begging, and it was probably fucked up but he didn't care – this was him, getting to have Dean all over again. "Gonna stretch you open, now, get you nice and ready for my cock. Want you to lube up my fingers for me," Castiel all but growled into the phone, listening to the deafening sound of a bottle of lube opening and closing and being tossed away, then the slight shift of Dean moving to a more comfortable position to stretch himself. "Start with just one, baby, and push in nice and slow…let me hear you."

Dean whimpered as the first finger breached him, closing his eyes as he imagined Castiel's hard body behind his back, a mesh of lines and muscle against Dean, warm and beautiful, his breath on the back of Dean's neck and his fingers in Dean's ass. "I'm gonna crook my fingers just a little bit -." Dean's breath hitched, he let out a broken moan, and Castiel knew he'd found the 'spot'. "There we go," Castiel purred into the phone, settling back in his car seat as he finally gave attention to his own rock-hard cock, pulling it out with a low hiss as he began to stroke himself, knowing he wouldn't last long with Dean making those delicious little whimpers and moans into his ear. "Add another finger for me, Dean, come on."

The younger man slid another finger in, scissoring and stretching himself out. "Fuck, Castiel, come on, please…"

"How close are you, baby?" Castiel growled, his hips bucking into his fist as he tightened his grip, throwing his head back against the headrest. Dean's breath hitched into his ear, groaning low under his breath. "Come on – tell me – how close?"

"Really…fucking…_Cas."_

"Come for me, Dean. Right the fuck now," Castiel growled, moving his fist faster and ignoring the knowledge that he was right next to a busy sidewalk and anyone could look in right then and see him jacking himself off, and listened to Dean as he lost control without Castiel even being there. It was a thrill unlike anything Castiel had done – he'd become a lot more adventurous, obviously, with Dean – he wouldn't have even thought about doing something like this with anyone else. Dean hissed when he pulled his fingers out, panting into the phone when Castiel came, covering his hand and his pants with his come – and that would be awkward, walking into his building with a wet spot – but he didn't really fucking care right then.

When they were both breathing normally again, Dean broke the silence; "I miss you, Cas," he whispered, sounding so young and vulnerable that Castiel wanted nothing more than to gather him close and hold him, but he couldn't – they were blocks away from each other.

"I miss you too, Dean," Castiel breathed, eyes closing, and he smiled when they just kept sitting, silent, listening to each other as though they were both there, and it was painful, knowing that they weren't. "I'll see you tomorrow at work." He opened his eyes, looking around and really hoping he hadn't been caught. No one was outside his car giving disapproving glares, so he figured he was safe – he tucked himself back in, wiping the come from his hand and restarting his car.

"Yeah, Cas. See you tomorrow."

"I love you, Dean."

A pause. "Love you too, Cas." Then, Dean hung up, and Castiel pulled back into traffic to drive the last little bit to his building, ready to face the new week and feeling more nervous about it, because now things had gotten a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Michael was…miserable. Lucifer had come back the next day during visiting hours, and though he was amiable enough, Michael just wanted to…_talk. _He wanted to know his brother again, and wanted to know what Lucifer had been doing with his life.

The man wasn't very cooperative. All Michael got to know was that Lucifer had gone to college in Europe, had travelled around looking for work and finally found some in Australia working as a lifeguard in a hotel in Cairns. Lucifer was…a totally different person. Michael remembered his little brother as this beautiful, vibrant being who always had something to say, never hesitated to say it, and had wit as quick and sharp as anyone could hope to have. He always smiled – this Lucifer hadn't smiled in a genuine way in a long time. The second day he'd visited, he brought his dog – a beautiful thing that was bright and sharp and seemed happy enough to hang around Michael's legs, curling underneath his chair like he belonged there, and though Michael didn't know if that raised him in Lucifer's eyes, he liked it on a weird level that the dog seemed to approve.

"He doesn't normally like people," Lucifer had commented, despite the fact that the dog seemed friendly enough. "At least, he prefers me to them."

"I guess I make good first impressions."

Lucifer smirked slightly – a hard, bitter expression that Michael hated. "Yes, I suppose you do."

"I miss you, Luci," Michael said, voice low as he reached forward, sliding his hand along the table and feeling pain when Lucifer pulled away so they wouldn't touch. "Every day after you left, I looked for you, and I called, and I just wanted…God, I wanted you back. Please, Lucifer, you _know _why I couldn't…why I didn't…" He ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily as he looked down, then back up at the other man. "Please. You know my reasons."

"I came to accept them, yes," Lucifer said, leaning on the back two legs of his chair, fingers lacing in front of him. "I accepted, and I understood, but you can't expect me to just come back and have everything be as it was when we were teenagers, Michael. That ship sailed a long time ago."

"I don't even remember raising the anchor," Michael replied softly, looking down at the hard galvanized steel of the table. "I never wanted to."

"Well. That was your decision." Lucifer stood, clicking for the dog to come to him, who did with a low head and hanging tail. "I'll be there for the court hearing, and then I'm out of here."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not here for some happy reunion. I'm here because for some stupid reason I feel obligated to make sure you don't land your sorry ass in jail, and I want to make sure you do. I loved you, and I still do as a brother, and that's all. I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I think you should drop those expectations as soon as you can so you don't end up getting hurt." Then, he left, his dog padding behind him, but because the animal was much more reluctant to go than he was, it took a long while for them to walk back out of the prison.

* * *

_He was drunk. Really, really wasted. He probably doesn't even remember. God, I hope he doesn't. Or maybe he does…_ Castiel was somewhat nervous going into the studio that day. He hadn't been this off-balance since the first day he'd met Dean. Dean…God, what had happened last night had totally…well, been amazing, but what if Dean regretted it? Or worse (better?) didn't even remember?

How the hell were they able to stay just friends if they kept sleeping together?

Castiel's first video today was with Dean. Apparently the viewers had loved the idea of Dean bottoming so much to Castiel that they'd requested another. This time it was going to be an 'amateur' kind of setting, apparently. They had to leave the studio for this one – they'd be doing it a warehouse outside of town, as a kind of 'voyeur' angle thing, apparently. As Castiel understood it, anyway.

Dean sauntered up to him once he came in, hands in his pockets and a small grin on his face. "Hey, Cas," he said, and he sounded like he had a sore throat from the night before…which kind of gave Castiel ideas. He smiled back, coming closer to the younger man. "It's just going to be you, me, and a camera in the corner," he said, and he didn't seem…nervous, or hesitant about it. Castiel bit his lip, knowing he was probably going to hate himself now, but;

"You don't regret it? Last night?" he asked, lowly whispering the words, practically breathing them against Dean's shoulder because he couldn't find it in himself to look Dean in the eye. "I mean. I totally understand if you do, but…" And he didn't know what he was saying, so he fell silent, blushing and knowing he was making a fool of himself.

Dean chuckled, taking Castiel's chin in his hand and tilting the older man's face up. "Listen, Cas, I called you last night because I needed you, and you answered. I'm grateful for it, and it was…fantastic," he said, voice lowering, and Castiel blushed, biting his lip because he never knew he had it in him to do something like that; "And I think, after we're done here, we can maybe…go out for dinner. Nothing fancy, just time to catch up. I want to know about everything I've been missing."

Castiel looked up, not even bothering to disguise the hope in his eyes and in his voice; "Really?" he asked. It had begun to seem like Dean would never forgive him, or let him back in, but here it was, right in front of him. Dean just smiled at him, and any reply was lost as the younger man leaned forward and kissed him, hand threading into the hair at the back of Castiel's head like it was meant to be there all the time, holding Castiel close as the older man's eyes fell closed, his lips parted and he lost himself in that kiss. It felt like coming home.

* * *

Sam was grinning when he practically skipped over to Gabriel, pulling his boyfriend away from the water cooler and kissing him breathless. When he let Gabriel pull away, the smaller man smirked a little up at him, bemused.

"What's up, Sammy?"

"Oh nothing," Sam said, taking Gabriel's hands and shrugging emphatically, bringing them with him. "Everything's just going right, you know? I walked in on Dean and Castiel making out – without cameras – so theoretically they're back together. And I don't know…I just feel fantastic." Gabriel smiled up at his boyfriend, glad to see Sammy so happy when for the past week he'd been the epitome of melancholy. He reached up (and up) and pulled Sam down for another kiss, grinning when Sam hummed against him.

"I'm glad you're happy," Gabriel replied, smiling despite himself because a happy Sam brightens up the entire room, and he had missed him. "Now if you could maybe put that _happiness _to better use…" He trailed off, grinning as he dipped his first two fingers in the front of Sam's jeans, pulling him forward, smirking up at Sam when the younger man flushed and grinned more widely at him, pulling him close by the hips.

"Hmm…I think I could handle that," Sam purred in reply, running his fingers through Gabriel's hair as the older man met him in a kiss. They couldn't get carried away (despite Gabriel's protestations) because Sam had somewhere to be, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves until they were separated.

Which ended up happening sooner than they'd planned for, as Dean and Castiel came into the room, grinning and laughing and looking like nothing had happened between them except a mild spat. Forgiven, forgotten. Sam and Gabriel were surprised – but then again, not really – at the completely one-eighty Dean's emotions had taken, but they guessed when you loved someone that much, there's no amount of time or distance that'll take away from that love, or need for that someone.

"Hey, guys," Dean said, throwing his arm over Castiel's shoulder, holding the other man close to him. Castiel's smile was brighter than the freaking _sun, _finally in Dean's arms again after the torturous days spent apart. "How's it hanging?"

"It hasn't been hanging for a while, Dean-o," Gabriel remarked dryly; "In fact, it was pretty stiff until you walked in."

"Oh. Gross." Dean's nose wrinkled when Sam laughed, putting Gabriel in front of him so he could hold him from behind and not completely eclipse the smaller man. Sam rested his chin on Gabriel's head, something the older man _hated _him doing, and grinned when Gabriel huffed underneath his face, deliberately digging his elbows into Sam's side as retribution. The younger man shied away, then went right on doing it and grinned. "Anyway, guys, I was thinking we all go out for dinner after work again today – catch up. I wanna know about everything I've been missing," Dean continued, smiling a little, his arm tightening around Castiel as the older man flushed. Sam nodded, forcing Gabriel to do so right along with him.

"Sounds cool. Say 'Cattlemen's' at seven?"

"Awesome."

* * *

The little red blinking light was distracting. It was somehow harder to ignore than the masses of cameras and crew that accompanied a regular video. Now it seemed like it was just the two of them, and when it was the two of them Castiel had an embarrassing tendency to…well, not hide anything or hold back. He'd likely start begging for Dean's forgiveness or utter something equally personal that he _didn't _want on camera, and it wouldn't end well.

Dean was slow and methodical with him, like he was determined to learn Castiel all over again as he pushed the older man up against one of the girders holding the abandoned warehouse up. The place was lined with boxes, walls graffitied by the many teenagers that had used this place as a hideout, and in one of those piles of boxes the camera rested, just out of sight but not out of mind.

"Dean…" Castiel choked on a gasp when Dean's mouth sealed over his, and he missed those lips so much he burned with it. He growled against the younger man, hurriedly pushing his shirt up until it hit the resistance of Dean's arms, desperate to touch bare skin. Dean's back had become almost smooth from a long time going without any 'Downstairs' time, and he'd gotten paler from no time in the sun. "Fuck, Dean, clothes _off."_

Dean, the bastard, chuckled against his mouth, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair as though he had all the time in the world and didn't plan to do a damn thing about it. He moved back slightly, eyes hooded as he shrugged his shirt off, letting Castiel free movement to touch him; shoulders, that strong muscles back, down to the dips above Dean's ass, where Castiel gripped and ground against Dean's erection, one of the younger man's legs fitting just perfectly between his own for him to ride.

He moaned against Dean, a broken and needy sound as the younger man practically tore at his clothes, desperate to get them both naked, because behind the job they had to do here there was urgency, a need that wouldn't be denied until they'd become as close as they had once been. If Castiel had his way, he'd crawl inside of Dean and never come out, just live in that perfect codependency for the rest of his life.

Dean fell to his knees in front of Castiel, kissing down the man's chest as Castiel leaned back against the steel girder. It was cold and rusted, the flakes coming off against his back in a quite unpleasant way, but Castiel could only focused on the warm man in front of him, beautiful on his knees and looking up at Castiel like he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Dean's vibrant green eyes burned into Castiel's as the younger man finally reached his cock, breathing on it through Castiel's jeans and making the man moan and buck against Dean. The younger man grinned, pressing the heel of his palm against Castiel's erection in a way that was, quite frankly, torture. Dean bit at the skin above Castiel's waistline, his warm breath just teasing him with the heat of that mouth, waiting…

"Fuck, Dean…"

"Fuck my mouth, Castiel. Come on," Dean growled, finally – fucking finally – opening Castiel's jeans quickly and deftly, freeing his cock from the confines and stroking just once, before he let go and gripped Castiel's thighs, waiting. "Want you to do it."

It took a moment for Castiel to realize what Dean was saying, and even then…God, Dean was going to kill him. He was sure of it – this was Dean getting his revenge. Death by sex combustion.

Castiel took his cock in hand, running the head over Dean's lips, making them all wet and shiny with his precome. Dean smiled encouragingly, licking his lips just a little, the tip of his tongue flicking over the head of Castiel's cock, and the older man sucked in a breath, his free hand threading through Dean's hair to the back of the man's head, getting a good grip before he fed Dean his cock. The younger man's lips parted eagerly for it, loose and wet and so fucking warm, Castiel had to grip himself to stop from coming right then and there. He gripped Dean's head with his other hand, giving an experimental shallow thrust into Dean's mouth. The younger man gagged a little, trying to pull back, and Castiel didn't let him – he withdrew his cock instead, letting Dean relax and get used to it before trying again. It took a while before the man relaxed enough for Castiel to really get a rhythm going, but once he did, _fuck, _was the power rush so worth it. Dean's mouth was all tight, wet suction, those pretty lips stretched wide around Castiel's cock as Castiel fucked into his mouth, keeping Dean's head still while he moved, Dean's hands digging into his thighs to keep him steady while he did so.

Just when he felt like he was about to come, he slowed himself down – and what an effort _that _took, let me tell you – to slow, deep thrusts that had Dean deep-throating him like a pro (which, really, he was). The younger man's eyes flashed up to his from beneath his lashes, and _fuck, _that was beautiful. Dean's _tongue _was doing things that should be illegal to Castiel, flicking at that sensitive spot under the head, licking around the vein, and…_Jesus fuck, _was that teeth?

"God…Dean…" Castiel's grip tightened just a little in Dean's hair – the only warning he got – before Castiel pulled out until just the head was in Dean's mouth, and came, loving the way the younger man's eyes fell closed, cheeks blushed and breathing heavy around him as he sucked Castiel through it, milking him for his come until Castiel thought he was going to collapse from overstimulation.

He pulled out, breathing just as heavily as Dean as he wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, and almost smirked when Dean adjusted himself in his jeans, getting to his feet in front of Castiel. "We weren't meant to do that," he noted dryly, and his voice was even lower and throatier than before, and _that _just gave Castiel's libido a good kick.

"Yeah, sorry," Castiel said, flushing slightly – because they were meant to have gone all the way. And he may have gotten a little carried away… "I guess Chuck'll just have to work with it."

"Or…" Dean raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his face that Castiel was nervous about. "We could just…go again. How fast's your recovery time?" he asked, leaning closer against Castiel, pinning him to the girder, warm breath on Castiel's neck and the older man shivered.

"Pretty damn fast," Castiel confessed, and it seemed like it was true. Already his cock was giving valiant little twitches to try and rise again, and he was sure he could get it up one more time before Chuck came back to pick them up. "But that's not fair – two for me and one for you."

Dean smirked. "You'll just have to make it really, _really _good," he said, a challenge in his voice.

Castiel smiled back; "I'm sure I can handle that," he said confidently, and Dean raised an eyebrow at him, playfully, and when they were finally ready to go again and it was over, he was man enough to admit that Castiel had very much delivered.

* * *

'Cattlemen's' was a steakhouse. A good one – food was plentiful and cheap, and it's a good place to do when you're living off five dollars a day, or want a fun night out without spending much. The place was set up like a calmer Old West Tavern, with paraphernalia on the walls and lots of random crap that people never paid attention to, with good country music playing in the background twenty-four/seven. It was a favorite haunt of the brother's, run by a good friend of their father – Deacon. The four men were led to the back of the place where they could be a little rowdier without raising attention or complaint, and the waitress took their drink orders before leaving the men in peace.

"So, wait, _Lucifer? _Like the Devil?" Dean repeated once Gabriel told them the story of how his brother had come to visit him in the studio. "Dude, I'm sorry, but were your parents high when they named you all after Archangels?"

Sam and Gabriel looked at Dean, as though not expecting him to have made that connection, but he shrugged and took another swig of his beer (which the waitress had been prompt enough bringing) and sat back, one arm casually resting over the back of Castiel's chair, the other resting on the table where he sat across from Sam.

Gabriel sighed. "They had a thing for the Archangels, okay? Michael and I were the lucky ones but," he grimaced, "Luci was not. But yes, he came in talking about how he was there for Michael, and how fucking them up was my fault. Way to drop a guilt bomb, eh?" he quipped easily, but there was a tenseness to his shoulders and a tightness to his expression that had Sam rubbing between his shoulder blades soothingly, trying to comfort his lover without words.

Castiel sat forward, taking Gabriel's hands in his. "There is no excuse for them blaming you," Castiel said, low and fierce with it. "They could have said 'fuck it' and kept going, but they didn't, and that's not your fault. Just because you knew and freaked out about it doesn't justify Michael's reaction, or how they ended up."

Gabriel looked down at the table for the longest moment, before not even bothering to try and disguise that he was changing the subject; "So you crazy kids are getting back together?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, nursing his own beer as he smirked over Dean's way. The younger man flushed and his hand gripped the back of Castiel's chair in reflex.

"Yes, I guess we are. Again, I'm sorry for being such an ass," he said, looking to Sam, then Gabriel, and then finally landing on Castiel. "Really. If I ever do that again feel free to, like, kick me or something." Castiel smiled at him.

"You were justified, in my eyes. I'm just glad…" He trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Dean just nodded and leaned over, placing a light kiss on Castiel's lips. The older man practically melted against him despite its chasteness, and Dean smiled against him.

"Yeah. Me too."


	14. Chapter 14

**The Daily Grind**

**Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.**

**Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.**

**Sarahlizzie is the best beta ever (:****  
**

**I have no idea how court hearings go. If you're expecting procedural accuracy, then you'll be disappointed. (: Enjoy!**

* * *

Wednesday morning found five men gathered outside a court room, dressed in that kind of casual business suit that everyone sees on TV, except for Gabriel who very pointedly refused to dress even remotely nicely – he was in jeans with ripped knees and a plaid t-shirt with a trucker's cap, the whole visual creating the idea that he was actually trying to be as redneck as possible. Dean had the impression that if he could get away with it he'd be chewing a piece of straw.

He smirked at the image, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall opposite the court room doors, all but glaring at the frosted glass as though it was a restrained monster or personal insult against him. Castiel smiled, running a hand along Dean's arm to try and find his hand, lacing their fingers together and letting their interlinked hands hang. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, and smiled with a short huff, looking over with affection at his partner.

Needless to say, none of them really wanted to be there. All of them had one issue or an issue by association. Gabriel – well, it's obvious. Castiel had lost his job to this callous man, but it had landed him with the best thing that ever happened to him, so really he's not complaining. Dean was still just pissed that the guy tried to sleep with a minor – it was the hypocrisy that had pissed him off the most, to be perfectly honest. Sam…well, Sam wasn't angry with Michael. Not really – he wasn't involved in the situation enough because Gabriel hardly ever talked about his family and now this was one bombshell after another.

No, the reason _Sam _was uncomfortable was the lecherous glances coming from random loiterer number five. AKA, Lucifer. AKA, Nick. Gabriel's brother.

Needless to say, it was awkward.

Sam had arrived at the courtroom first, because it's kind of his 'thing' to be there before everyone else, as if he has something to prepare or get ready for that others can't be around for. Anyway, he'd been there, hanging around and waiting for Dean to drive up with Gabriel and Castiel in the backseat, when Lucifer had walked in, his giant Australian Shepherd leading the way. The dog was vocally trained, had halted as soon as Lucifer told him to in a little half-corner created by the meeting of a pillar and a wall that led to the main hallway that led to the exit, and then laid down, providing a means of occupying Sam's attention while the other man sidled closer.

"So, what brings you here?"

As far as pick-up lines go, it wasn't very high up and it made Sam smile. Still, conversation is always nice, and when Sam turned his head to look at the guy, he had to do a double take. He had that regal-esque look about him that reminded Sam of old portraits of rich families, with the dignified air and the whole 'holier than thou' aura.

He had these weird eyes, like they couldn't decide between being blue and green or just a mix, and they were _light, _which went nicely with his lightly tanned skin and sandy blonde hair. Very…Aryan. Sam jerked his head behind him towards the closed door. "Friend of a friend," he said, flashing the million dollar smile because despite himself, he always liked a little casual flirting. "And you?"

Lucifer smiled, folding his arms across his chest. "It's my brother's hearing," he said, and Sam's eyes widened. _Shit, _Gabriel's brother. He was flirting with Gabriel's brother. Okay, backtracking now. Sam straightened a little against the wall, forcing away the bright smile so it was a little _less_…friendly. Lucifer's eyes trailed up and down Sam's body with barely disguised intent, almost to the point that it was uncomfortable for someone who's taken, and then Sam felt a warm hand on his shoulder, sliding down his arm.

He smiled, turning his head and catching sight of Gabriel – doing a little inner raised eyebrow at his boyfriend's attire – and relaxed, leaning his body closer to the man. "Lucifer." Gabriel's voice was hard and flat, unimpressed with his brother's hardly-restrained interest in _his _boy, and Sam got the feeling that if it was socially acceptable Gabriel would start peeing all over him right there. "Looks like you made it."

"As did you," Lucifer replied with an edge of disdain, as though he was above talking to his own brother. His bright eyes took in Dean and Castiel as well, and he nodded to Dean briefly in recognition before he turned away, and ignored the rest of them until the court hearing began.

Gabriel took Sam off to one side, pinning the taller man against the corner opposite Lucifer's dog. "I wish I could own you right here, right in front of him," he growled, hands shameless along Sam's torso and around the younger man's ass and hips, practically molesting him while Dean and Castiel wisely turned a blind eye and ignored them. "Thinks he can fucking take what's _mine…"_

"Gabriel, calm down," Sam replied with a light, breathless laugh as Gabriel forced his head back, biting down at his collarbone almost savagely, the sensation barely dulled through Sam's shirt. "You're okay, alright?" Sam had grown to accept and work around Gabriel's insane jealousy – kind of got off on it, in fact – and knew that when Gabriel got like this, he just needed reassuring. For all his flare and bravado, Gabriel was incredibly insecure, sure that Sam would eventually leave him for some younger, prettier thing and he'd be left. After all, Gabriel had lured Sam away from Azazel…it could happen again.

Sam slouched against the wall, running a hand through Gabriel's hair and meeting and holding his gaze. "You're alright, okay? He's not my type, anyway," Sam said, looking over Lucifer's way with a slight smirk. "He's too…serious." Gabriel smiled a little, brushing his hand along the corner of Sam's jaw and down his neck and chest. "And I like small packages."

Gabriel laughed a little; "Trust me, Sammy, my package is nowhere near _small."_

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes, and pressed his lips in a light kiss against Gabriel's. They were interrupted by an obvious throat-clear, and broke apart in time to see Adam and Jo, arms linked, standing in the front entrance and looking at them, very bemused. Sam flushed and bit his lip, smiling over at Adam and Jo with a little wave, and Jo came forward to give both men a little kiss on the cheek in greeting. It was weird, seeing her without her trademark turtle neck and thick coat, but nice. She was wearing a light green tank top that made her eyes seem aqua and black hip-hugging jeans, topped with flip flops and with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Sam smiled, feeling like she was a little sister to him and hugged her tightly, then nodded in greeting at Adam.

"How're you guys doing?" he asked while Gabriel and the pair exchanged greetings. Jo smiled over at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and Sam caught a little flash of the pinker part of her scars, and it was lost as her hair fell again.

"Pretty good, pretty good," she said with pursed lips and a contemplative look on her face as they basically passed the time not speaking and looking at each other.

Dean rounded the corner, coming to a momentary stop at seeing Jo – it would take a while before he was fully settled around her – and then smiled, coming forward and hugging the girl tightly like a family reunion, and then smiled, jerking his head back in the direction of the court room. "Hearing's starting," he murmured, and Sam, Gabriel, Jo and Adam nodded and followed him towards the room.

They filed into the last row at the back, Lucifer and Adam going in last.

"So," Lucifer said quietly as they filed in; "You're the one my brother might be going to jail for."

Adam's eyes met the older man's, a little wide, but he was sure Lucifer wouldn't try doing anything with so many witnesses. "Yeah," he said, awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground. "Look, I'm sorry about this, really. You know what it's like, when you need money."

"Yes," Lucifer replied thoughtfully, "I suppose I do." And with that cryptic message, he left, going to the opposite side of the courtroom, pretty much as far back from the defendant's stand as he could get.

"The case of The People versus Michael Santos is now in session." The judge slammed her gavel, everyone rose, and then sat, and the hearing began.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Michael got off with a small fine. No one was expecting anything more – knowing Michael the prosecuting lawyer was probably dirty as well and paid with his money. Dean didn't know why, but he'd expected…more, from it, really. You know; faith in the system and all that.

"Well, congratulations," Lucifer said when Michael walked out, scratching his dog behind the ears where it sat next to him, its ass wagging through lack of a tail at Michael's approach. "Looks like you're home free."

Michael stared at Lucifer, trying to get a read on his brother, but years of separation had created a brother that he couldn't read, and that had learned to hide what he was feeling well. The older brother dipped his head, trying to meet Lucifer's eyes, and he met and held his gaze. "Will you be leaving now?" Michael asked with a low voice and carefully hidden hope, hope that he hadn't lost this relationship forever, that he could fix this and make things at least civil between himself and Lucifer again.

"Well," Lucifer said, sighing a little and looking at his nails. "Turns out that weather in my connection in Florida is shitty. Nothing flies in and out, and it'll take time for me to find a new connection. I guess I have a night to kill, or two." He looked up again, meeting his big brother's eyes, and Michael smiled.

"Would you be willing to join me for dinner tonight, Luci?" Michael asked, just stopping his hand from reaching forward and touching his little brother, unsure as to how he'd be received.

Lucifer was silent for a moment, looking over Michael's face appraisingly. "Yes. I think I would."

* * *

When Dean and Castiel walked back into the studio on the Thursday, Alistair was there, waiting for them with a cruel little smile on his face. Dean paused, hesitating on the doorframe before approaching the main room from Bobby's office. He reached behind him, grabbing for Castiel's hand (you know, for mutual strength that is totally mutual), facing down his enemy and rival where he stood, smirking. What do you want, Alistair?" Dean growled, all but glaring at the man as he approached. If looks could kill then the man would be a pile of ash right now. "I'm not in the mood, alright?"

"Just wanted to see how my little protégée had been coming along while I was gone," Alistair said, sliding his creepily black eyes over to Castiel, who stiffened underneath the scrutiny. "Well, Castiel? Do you think you're ready for a video? 'Cause Adler's been asking for you and since he wasn't able to find you yesterday, and you were with me today, he asked me to relay his message to you." Alistair shrugged a little, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, but his eyes were predator-sharp, his expression fixed on that creepy smile. "There's fully penetrative sex." His eyes were predatory, focused on Dean's face as he spoke and watching with a sick kind of glee as the man stiffened, jaw clenched as he glared at Alistair. "The best part is? It's you…and Dean."

Both men blinked at him. "_What?" _Dean growled, panicked for a moment that Castiel had been stupid enough to submit another suggestion. "How did that happen?"

Alistair grinned. "Zachariah went through the discarded videos – someone anonymously tipped him off – and he was intrigued by the idea of you and Castiel doing a video together. He's making it happen." Dean all-but-growled at the other man, realizing what the options were; either sub for Cas – something he wasn't sure he was willing to do – or Dom – something he sure as hell _wasn't _willing to do."

"When is the video scheduled?" he asked, voice tight and clipped.

"Monday," Alistair replied smoothly, smiling, then checked his watch. "Well, I'm late for my next appointment. I'm sure you two have a _lot _to talk about. Adieu." With a flourish of his hand, he left, heading 'Downstairs' with Castiel's and Dean's gazes burning into his back.

"Bastard," Dean growled under his breath.

"You don't have to, Dean," Castiel murmured instantly, turning his lover's shoulder so they were standing face to face. Dean was stiff, resisting his manhandling, as though in shock from the news – which wouldn't surprise Castiel one bit. "I'm serious – this is harassment at best, downright coercion and rape from the right angle. You don't have to."

"Are you ready?" Dean asked, hooking his hands over Castiel's forearms and keeping the other man close. He exhaled shakily, his eyes wide as though panicked, and Castiel wanted – not for the first time – to go and make Alistair choke on his own flogger. Fucking bastard. "Are you even ready to Dom someone, Cas? Have you qualified for it?"

Castiel shook his head – he hadn't had nearly enough training to safely Dom someone professionally. Not even close – if they did this, Dean would have to Dom. "But you don't need to do this. I swear – I'll talk to Chuck, or to Adler, or _someone, _something to get this -."

"It won't work, Cas," Dean replied with a low sigh, shaking his head and smiling at Castiel's righteous indignation and his naiveté when approaching this kind of thing. "I've already started doing things that I've written down I won't do – my contract's changed without me realizing it. It's either I do it, or _he _does." He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, because although he didn't want to Dom Castiel – didn't want to hurt Castiel, and risk losing control like he had all those years ago, but then again… "God, I don't…"

"Dean…" Castiel's voice was low and desperate, torn between his insane desire to see Dean in his powerful element and the desire to keep Dean safe and happy – he didn't want to hurt Dean and permanently fuck up his relationship with the other man, and he'll admit it – he was afraid. He trusted Dean with his life, but Dean didn't trust himself. The younger man was shaking his head when Castiel took his face in his hands. "I trust you. I love you. I don't think you could hurt me – that you would hurt me beyond what I enjoyed. Alistair's just trying to do this to fuck with you. You shouldn't have to do this – you _don't _have to do this."

"Cas." Dean's eyes were sincere, his smile small but genuine as he rested his forehead against Castiel's, his lips lightly against Castiel's, combing his hands through the older man's thick dark hair. "I love you…God, I love you, _Cas, _please be sure." Dean's expression was tortured, desire to do it warring with the fear of taking it too far. Again. "Please, I couldn't bear it if…"

"Shh, Dean," Castiel murmured, purred even, kissing him once more to silence him. "I trust you."

* * *

Dean walked into the room that Azazel had vacated for their use. It wasn't plain this time – there were three black leather ottomans in one corner, and on the wall hung a detachable rail that held a few floggers and bullet vibrators. There were two more rails hung at head height and then three feet above that, for grabbing onto.

If the young man was nervous, he sure as hell didn't look it. He was calm, totally in his element walking into that room, and Castiel felt an involuntary shiver run through him, watching Dean look around the room and arrange everything to his liking. He pulled over one of the ottomans so it was almost by the door and placed the other two next to each other. Castiel knelt in the center of the room for the longest time while Dean arranged everything – taking his sweet damn time about it, too – until Castiel's muscles burned from kneeling in the awkward position for so long, and his body was tense from imagining just exactly was about to happen. Dean was still fully dressed in black jeans that were just a bit tighter than what he normally wore, and a t-shirt that was one size too small, also black and plain. His feet were bare and made no noise on the black-tiled floor.

There was a minimal amount of filming equipment in there – Dean had asked Chuck how many were strictly necessary, and now it was just Dean, Castiel, Chuck with his camera, and then one other guy with his. It was at once a little more intimate and casual, as Castiel felt the weight of the cameras on him, but also didn't feel quite so _much _weight, if that made sense.

Finally, Dean approached him. Castiel stared at his bare feet for a moment before he felt a hand in the hair at the back of his head, manhandling his head so he looked up into Dean's eyes. It was there that the nerves were showing, just a little, and maybe there was a shake to Dean's hand that Castiel didn't pay attention to, and a gentleness when he ran the thumb from his fist over the kneeling man's head, but that was just for them – the cameras wouldn't pick that up.

Dean pulled, gently, forcing Castiel to stand, and led him over to the paired ottomans. "On your hands and knees," he ordered, and Castiel felt a little tendril of heat and excitement curl in his belly at Dean's commanding voice, so different from his regular, softer tone. It made Castiel shiver as he braced himself on all fours on the ottoman, the leather giving under his weight and already damp from the sweat slicking his palms.

Dean's hands caressed him like Castiel belonged to him, like he was some prize animal Dean was checking over; he stood off to one side of Castiel, running his hands down the older man's back and then to his ass, rubbing over the flashy part before landing a hard smack there. Castiel hissed, jerking at the unexpected flash of pain, and Dean did it again, and again, until his ass was red and sore. Castiel let out a broken moan when Dean's hands turned gentle again, rubbing at the sore area until all Castiel could feel was a pleasant tingle in the background of his mind. His cock was now hard, heat blossoming from wherever Dean touched as the younger man kept touching him, sliding his hands with deft thoroughness all over his shaking body.

"Good boy," Dean purred, low in the back of his throat as Castiel's head dipped between his shoulders, the older man breathing heavily and gasping when one of Dean's hands was at the back of his head again, jerking him. "Keep your head up," he growled, pulling back a little too far until Castiel's back bowed to compensate, and then Dean let him drop. Castiel obediently maintained the position as Dean walked away, going over to the shelves on the far side of the room.

Dean's hands shook when they grabbed for a small vibrator, a small bottle of lube and a flogger. He ran the leather straps through his free hand, remembering exactly what had happened last time he'd picked up one of those, and shook the thought away. Castiel trusted him, and Dean was calm – in control. There was no danger here. Chuck wouldn't let him mess up like that twice.

He went back to where the older man still knelt, having barely moved from his position, and Dean smiled, running a hand along the small of Castiel's back where he knew his lover was sensitive, fingernails digging in just slightly, and Castiel hissed. A quick check affirmed that Castiel was actually enjoying himself _very _much, and Dean relaxed somewhat, because he wouldn't be able to continue if he was just…Alistair. He couldn't.

He flicked the flogger just slightly over Castiel's back, just so that the other man could feel it there, and then let it rest in the dip of Castiel's spine as he lubed up the vibrator, slipping it in with no warning. He had a remote in the pocket of his jeans and fished for it, turning it onto a low background setting.

"You're being very good, sweetheart," Dean murmured lowly, pushing in the vibrator just a little further and watching Castiel's hole clench around it, circling the rim with his finger. The other man whimpered and moaned, his head falling forward before he remembered himself and raised it again. "Very good."

Dean picked up the flogger, running it through his hand again, and twisted the ends around his fingers so that he was pulling it taught, before he let it go, sending it whipping towards Castiel's back. The man jerked and cried out when the ends hit, immediately raising red marks to his skin, and his hands fisted in the leather as his head dropped forward. Dean hit him again and again, varying the power he put behind it and the place he hit so Castiel never knew what to expect. The only pause he made was to reach into his pocket and turn up the setting on the vibrator, and Castiel shouted out, muscles tense and quivering and Dean growled, jerking his head up again when he saw Castiel had let it drop.

He was starting to feel it – that inherent violence that he'd already unleashed on Castiel more than once. Everyone knows the sub has all the power – Dean had said it himself – but it was hard to remember that when he had Castiel like this, completely at his mercy.

Still, Dean swore to himself to keep an eye out for any signs of legitimate distress, and that's how he managed to catch Castiel's barely whispered 'please'.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, holding the flogger in one hand and stroking down Castiel's reddened, burning spine, torn between staying in character and just calling off the scene, because if Castiel was hurting then he'd never forgive himself. "What do you need? Do we need to stop?"

The other man shook his head frantically. "Please, come. I need to come," Castiel gasped, eyes clenched tightly shut, and Dean felt a surge of relief and desire at the same time, and a small smile came to him before he could stop it.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked lightly, sliding back into character with ease as he trailed the tips of the flogger over Castiel's sensitive flanks, reveling in the tiny clench-shiver of his muscles. "I don't know, sweetheart, I don't think you've earned it. Do you think you've earned it?"

Castiel was a good learner; his response was prompt – "Only if you think I have."

Dean smiled, going around to Castiel's head, and he set the flogger down, smiling even wider at the small sigh of relief his lover gave. He grabbed Castiel by the back of the head again, forcing his face up, and kissed him – long, hard, and completely dominating. It was unlike what Castiel was used to from Dean – there was no gentle pressure and coaxing and soft submission, but a hard fast slide of tongue and teeth that was designed to get Castiel's mouth open as soon as possible, Dean's tongue fucking into his mouth like it had the right to.

Castiel let out a sound like a whimper and a moan when Dean drew away, the man's eyes almost completely black with just a ring of green around the edge of his iris, and he pulled Castiel up again by his head. "Over this way," he growled, directing Castiel to the bars that were nailed into the wall. "Grab the top one." Castiel reached up as high as he could, and he had to go onto the very tips of his toes to grab hold of the bar. The position was going to be a bitch on his calf muscles when he was allowed to relax – which could be in a few minutes or an hour. He had no way of predicting Dean's next move and he loved it.

The vibrator ramped up another setting at the same time Dean's flogger came down on his back again. Castiel's screamed into the wall, entire body tense as he instinctively shied away from the sensation, his hands an inch from letting go.

"Don't you fucking let go of that bar," Dean growled, closer than Castiel expected him to be before another blow landed. Down his shoulders, all over his spine and over his ass, making every part of him red, and Castiel gasped, tears flowing down his face at the delicious burn of it, the thrill of getting Dean like this, all to himself. It's fucked up but Castiel didn't have it in him to care, couldn't think past the throbbing in his cock and the fantastic stimulation in his ass.

Castiel gasped brokenly against the wall, his body lax against it as the only support he could find as Dean kept up the rhythm, occasionally changing angle and hardness, but always that slap-sting of pain followed by the burn as it rippled out and calmed, before the next blow came. It was delicious and had Castiel a writhing, begging mess within a few minutes.

"Please, please let me come – God, let me come…" Castiel begged, words slightly muffled by the wall but he knew Dean could hear him. God, he had to come or _die _at this point – his cock was hard and trapped between his body and the wall, unable to get friction aside from the cold, unforgiving paint that was damp from precome, and Castiel hissed when Dean stopped, rubbing a hand down Castiel's enflamed back again and cupping his ass, where the harsher blows had been laid.

"Do you think you've earned it?" Dean whisper-growled into his ear, the man's body heat suddenly behind him, pressing up against Castiel in a mesh of muscle and quivering tension. Dean's cock was a hard line against Castiel's ass, fit to burst from the feeling of it, and Castiel sighed out a breath at the question, his response still the same; only if Dean thought he had.

Dean 'hmm'ed quietly, then pulled away. "Let go of the bar, turn around, on your knees," he ordered, walking away to replace the flogger, and then turned back to Castiel, who had practically fallen to the ground on his knees, hands behind his back in tight fists, cock flushed and leaking, curling up towards his stomach. Dean smirked at the sight.

"I think…" he began, walking back towards Castiel slowly, hands undoing the button and zip of his jeans, "that you've earned a little bit of a reward." Castiel's eyes zeroed in on Dean's cock as he drew it out, fisting around the base and jerking just once as he came to a halt in front of Castiel. It was embarrassing the way Castiel's mouth watered at the thought of sucking Dean off, and how when the man touched himself, it was Castiel who moaned. "Do you want this, sweetheart?"

Castiel nodded.

"How bad?"

"So bad, please…" Castiel had never known one person could sound so wanton, but there it was, coming out of his own mouth as he looked up at Dean, practically shaking in a mix of pain and need. "Want it. Need your cock. Please."

Dean 'hmm'ed again, keeping his cock in hand as he ran the head around Castiel's parted lips, getting them all shiny and wet, before he fed Castiel his cock, hand gripping the back of the man's head so he couldn't move – Dean was in control, after all. He set up a smooth, shallow pace at first, letting Castiel get used to not having his own head before he slid in as far as he knew Castiel could take him, hearing him gag at the angle. The action made saliva flood Castiel's mouth and Dean hissed at the wet warmth as Castiel tried to swallow it, muscles contracting around Dean's cock.

"Yeah, sweetheart, there we go…" Dean purred as he really started to fuck Castiel's mouth, not once breaking from that blue-fire gaze that was burning into him from under thick, dark lashes, and he couldn't imagine how far he'd taken Castiel from when they first met. If you had told Dean he'd be in this situation not even two months after meeting the man, he wouldn't have believed you. "Feel so good – you were born for this, I know it."

Castiel moaned around Dean's cock, sinking his head down just a little for it, his hips bucking into air as he desperately tried to get friction, so turned on and _this _close to coming he couldn't even _begin. _Dean pulled out, because the video needed all the way sex and he wanted to be inside of Castiel, right the fuck now. He pulled Castiel up by his head, and led him to the double ottomans again, bending him right over until Castiel's forearms were on the edge, fingers digging into the soft padded sides, his legs either side of the ottoman and toes just brushing the floor. Dean pulled out the vibrator without bothering to change the settings, and Castiel whimpered at the sudden stillness and emptiness.

Dean lubed up his cock thoroughly, because he didn't intend to prepare Castiel very much – he wanted to fuck the man open. His fingers trailed teasing, slick little trails around Castiel's clenching hole, watching as the man relaxed, eager for him, and grew frustrated when Dean refused to push any part of himself inside.

The man let out a needy little whimper, and Dean took that as his cue. "What do you say, sweetheart? You have to ask me nicely or you can't get your reward for all your good behavior."

Castiel whimpered, turning his head to look back at Dean, but the younger man caught his chin and made him face forward again, the order going unspoken. "Please, please fuck me," Castiel moaned, because if he didn't get _something _he was going to spontaneously combust, and that would _suck._

"Mmm…Good enough," Dean mused, pressing the tips of two fingers inside Castiel at once, and the older man hissed, clenching at the suddenness as Dean pushed almost all the way in, crooking his fingers so that they dragged along Castiel's prostate. Castiel's whole body jerked, his cock painfully hard, but because of his position he couldn't thrust against the ottoman, couldn't give himself any friction whatsoever.

Dean had been a _very _good student.

When Dean finally slid home, it was like nirvana. Castiel's whole body practically melted as Dean braced himself against the ottoman, knees against the edge as he fucked into Castiel, hands grabbing his hips savagely, leaving bruises behind. One of his hands ran up and down Castiel's still-aching spine, and there was a tenderness to it that Castiel knew was all Dean, was him thanking Castiel for trusting him, was relief for trusting himself and having himself pull through. Castiel moaned as Dean's cock repeatedly dragged over his prostate, and almost cried with relief when he asked for the third time for permission to come, and Dean granted it between heavy, panted breaths and muffled swears, biting down underneath Castiel's shoulder blade as he stilled, coming at the same time as Castiel, driven over the edge by spasming muscles and his own turbulent emotions. He kept rocking into Castiel while he came, filling the other man up and then reached down around Castiel's body, milking the other man through his own orgasm until they were both too oversensitive to keep going, and Chuck called for the cameras to stop shooting.

Dean was reverent, cleaning Castiel up, as though he couldn't quite believe they were there. He seemed nervous, suddenly, and Castiel could understand why – it needed to be put down right the fuck now. He followed Dean when the younger man went over to grab for Castiel's clothes, and instead of taking them he plastered himself to Dean's front, wrapping his arms around him.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asked, framing his face in his hands, his eyes dark and concerned as he leaned his forehead against Dean's, still breathing hard from his recent orgasm. "Dean?"

"I…don't know," Dean said, scratching the back of his head and trying to avoid Castiel's eyes. "I don't know how I'm feeling. It's kind of…anticlimactic, I guess," he said with a dry laugh, shaking his head. "I didn't lose it at all."

Castiel smiled. "I had every faith in you," he replied, drawing Dean into a chaste kiss, brushing his hands through the younger man's hair. "And that was fantastic, Dean – I never knew it could feel like that," he said honestly, because with Alistair it is pain, all the time. He doesn't care if you get off because his videos aren't _like that. _But _Dean…_Castiel had felt everything, and the intent behind it all. He felt the connection between getting pain from this and getting pleasure, taking pleasure in the fact that you trusted someone so much to do this to you, and the fact that they trusted you to say when it was getting to be too much. "But…you're okay, right?"

Dean smiled, exhaling heavily as he drew Cas closer, inhaling the scent at his neck. "Yeah, Cas, I'm fine. You were okay, right? I didn't want…I don't want…"

He didn't know how to finish that sentence, but that was okay, because Castiel did. The older man hugged Dean tightly, taking comfort from the feeling of Dean, warm and solid in front of him, and sighed happily. "Thank you, Dean, for doing that for me." It was either Dean or Alistair, and Castiel would pick his lover every time.

The younger man chuckled, pulling Castiel down one more time, and they kept making out until someone had to come down and kick them out of the room for the next video.

When they left the place, going upstairs (after Castiel had gotten dressed and they'd made themselves presentable), they found Alistair, the bastard just waiting for them with barely restrained glee. "So, boys, how did it go?"

Castiel couldn't help himself; he saw red. Alistair was on the floor before he realized what had happened, cradling a split lip and there was a minor, dull pain in Castiel's fist where it was still clenched. "It went fantastically, and fuck you very much."

"_Cas," _Dean said, surprised but grinning despite himself. "Way to be badass."

Castiel just smiled.

* * *

The four boys grew closer, after that. The drama cooled down after a while, although it's naïve to think that it disappeared completely. Gabriel still had a strained relationship with his family and an insane amount of jealousy when it came to Sam, and Castiel still had urges to claim Dean in ways that aren't exactly normal, but nowadays, after passing his assessment to be a Dom, he gets to take that out in a 'Downstairs' room. As long as it didn't bleed into their actual love life, Dean became perfectly okay giving Castiel control, and taking it. The two became 'versatile' in their roles and were okay with that.

Jo and Adam got married when Adam turned twenty-one – six years after the whole drama and the person that had brought them together in the first place. Jo's now pregnant with her second child – they're hoping for a boy, this time.

Years ago, two brothers went out to dinner once. Then twice, and then once more before one of them finally managed to forgive, and they started anew. Now they're living in the city in a penthouse apartment on a strictly don't-ask-don't-tell basis, wherein Lucifer remains by his new name and to anyone looking from the outside, they're just two gay guys living a very nice, ritzy life.

Chuck and Becky finally got together. It took Sam actually physically planting Castiel in front of the girl with a freaking _post-it _on his face asking Becky out. As far as the boys know, they're still going steady, even if Becky has embarrassing tendencies to write slash stories about the porn stars she's suddenly hanging out with a lot more.

When Adler retired, Dean got the company. He didn't fire Alistair despite the fact that he desperately, desperately wanted to, but he did restrict the 'Downstairs' hours and changed things drastically. The company may be a little lower profit (which may have ended in certain employment cuts that a certain person may or may not have suffered from) but it's a much, much better place to work now, and Adam's got a desk job working Bobby's position once the old guy retired as well, not long after Adler.

Dean gets to return home to Castiel every day, as they'd moved into Dean's apartment together once Uriel had announced he was fucking tired of his job and of Anna, and was moving to a sunnier climate down south, and the couple got a dog. Castiel had suggested actual children, but Dean didn't think a porn suite job was the best example to set, and so they settled with the dog. They called it Bobby-John and it's the most excitable thing anyone could ever buy.

Sam dropped his job at the studio and went back to school to get his law degree. He's now a practicing attorney and he _did _adopt a child. The kid's a hell raiser and Dean totally blames Gabriel's influence on it.

He's also pretty sure the boy and Jo's daughter will end up married, because that's the sort of thing that happens. He never imagined he'd have such a domestic life, but now, looking at it, he has no idea what he was so afraid of. He remembers thinking that if only he could find a nice girl (or guy) who would understand and get his job, he'd be alright. He also remembered thinking it would never happen. He's been proven wrong.

And he's okay with that.

_**Hey…guys? I think it's done D: This story is over! OMG. I never thought it would happen…this fic is like my baby…Dear God…*cries* I shall plan a party for it, I guess…it's the only thing I can think of. Sigh. *hugs the fic* Unless you can think of timestamps or plots that I didn't wrap up, it's over! Thank you for the support and I hope you liked it! =D HM x**_


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